Misconception
by Tramontana Keeper
Summary: Malik is bright, blonde, beautiful, outgoing. With a Middle Eastern mindset. Yugi and the gang begin to wonder if his friendliness isn’t just a little TOO friendly? Meanwhile, Malik faces his own problems with his past and a certain old friend... ON HOLD
1. Fishponds and Frogs

This fic was written jointly by Tramontana Keeper and SeventhDaughter. And a huuuge thanks to Nehti, our wonderful beta!

Disclaimer: We don't own YuGiOh. How sad.

CHAPTER ONE

School on Monday that particular week, the week he and Malik first became friends, was not something Ryou was looking forward to. His weekend had been rather… well, dull was the only way to describe it. His yami had been strangely quiet all of Friday, and on Saturday when Ryou asked what was wrong, his yami had angrily replied, "Leave me alone! I'm thinking, can't you tell?"

"Um… ok." Wow. He's THINKING. Breathe, Ryou, he told himself. The world has not come to an end. Yet.

Of course, the answer Ryou received had not helped him with his original problem, the one that he had turned to Bakura with in the first place. Tentatively, he tried again. "Yami," he ventured, "do you think this is all getting a little boring?"

There was a pause. "What?"

"You know. Yugi's been visiting with his Grandfather's family and won't be back till Monday, Joey and Tristan took Serenity to the beach, Tea and Mai are on one of their big shopping sprees, Otogi's away on another business trip, and Kaiba's… Kaiba. Besides, even if they were all here, wouldn't we just be doing the same things we always do? Watching movies, playing Duel Monsters, or hanging out at the arcade…?"

"You left Malik out."

"Malik?" Ryou blinked. "Oh, you mean that new kid?"

Malik Ishtar had appeared in Domino City the week before, and even though Ryou had seen him every day at school, he didn't quite think of him as part of the crowd yet.

Although everybody else seemed to know him.

Come to think of it, the strange hostility that had been surrounding the new kid had bonked Ryou on the head several days ago, and it made him wonder what Malik had done to deserve it. His yami was not forthcoming on the subject.

"That's an idea," he muttered.

He rose and grabbed his windbreaker from the back of a chair it was draped over. I'll take a walk and see where we end up, he thought at his yami.

The silence he got from Bakura was one he had learned meant indifference.

Outside, the city was chilly. Strong winds propelled him down the street, blowing leaves and random squirrels in his face. The park down the street was unusually empty, and he sat down on the edge of the slide and watched the swings flap violently in the wind.

It suddenly occurred to him that he'd never gotten an answer as to why his yami seemed so disturbed. He considered trying to ask the moody Bakura what was wrong, but that would really be breaking their unspoken truce of peacefulness – Bakura had promised not bother his hikari if Ryou didn't disturb him. He pondered the question as he blindly circled the park, eyes on the ground.

With unexpected suddenness, he came up hard against a warm, solid something. Ryou reeled back and tripped over the low wall of the sandbox, falling headfirst into the sand. "Ouch," he tried to say, and got a mouthful of gritty sand. Behind him, a splash was heard.

He raised himself onto his hands and knees and spit out dirt, then looked around. The someone he'd bumped into had slammed into the tree that stood behind them, and from there had fallen into the fishpond. Ryou blinked, for the second time. Since when was there a fishpond in the park?

The someone sat up spluttering. He wiped scummy water from his dripping hair. "Yick," he muttered. Ryou climbed out of the sandbox and hurried over. He offered the boy a hand. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking, and I…."

"It's-" coughhackchoke "-ok." The boy stood up and swayed, nearly tripping again in the uneven footing. "Ryou? Watcha doing here?"

Ryou peered at the boy. Under all the muck, the long blond hair, dark skin and gold jewelry seemed faintly familiar. "Malik?" he asked.

"What?" The Egyptian lifted his foot to step out of the pond and lost his balance. He flapped his hands comically in an attempt to regain his footing. Ryou, trying hard not to giggle, grabbed onto one of his arms and helped him back up.

"My house is just down the street. You don't want to walk around looking like that, people will think you're some kind of…" he clapped his hands to his mouth before he could say 'bog monster'.

Malik looked down at himself and laughed. "I do look kind of like a bog monster, don't I?"

"Did I say that out loud?" Ryou blurted.

"You thought that!" Malik turned, a mock scowl twisting the attractive features of his face, but doubled over mid-turn, clutching his stomach.

"Malik! Are you ok?" Ryou cried. The easygoing blonde looked like he was having major convulsions.

At a closer look, wasn't he just laughing?

Malik straightened and reached underneath his shirt. What was he looking for under there? Ryou wondered.

"Ah hah!" Malik exclaimed, pulling a frog from the back of his shirt. He gave it a piercing look, before asking sarcastically "anybody for frogs' legs?" as he tossed it over his shoulder.

He's not so bad, Ryou thought. "Let's go to my house, so you can change your clothes."

"Great!" Malik grabbed his hand and pulled him down the road.

When they had reached the house, Ryou led Malik straight to the shower. "I'll leave some clothes for you on the counter."

"Sure!" Malik was already pulling his filthy shirt over his head. As he turned to leave, Ryou caught a glimpse of Malik's tanned, lightly muscled stomach. He hurried out, hoping that Malik hadn't noticed his glance. Inside his head, his yami burrowed deeper inside himself.

Ryou grabbed one of his striped t-shirts and a pair of jeans and boxers and nervously re-entered the bathroom. It was so steamed up that it reminded him of London fog; he had to feel his way to the counter. Almost thankful, he left the clothes and made his way quickly to the kitchen.

When Malik came down ten minutes later with a towel around his hair, he had already made a pot of hot chocolate. Ryou looked up. "Do the clothes fit alright?" he inquired nervously.

Malik looked around. "They're fine – do you have a pair of scissors?"

Ryou bemusedly reached into a nearby drawer and handed him the scissors. He watched in disbelief as Malik stripped off the t-shirt and proceeded to cut off three inches from each sleeve and about ten from the bottom. He slipped it back on, and it now came just above his midriff. He pinched the loose waistband of the jeans. "Got a belt?"

Ryou accurately imitated a codfish for about ten seconds before recovering from the mutilation of his precious shirt, of whose like he had seventeen others in his closet. "Malik, that was MY shirt!"

"It still _is_ your shirt," Malik commented, nonchalantly toweling his hair.

"But you killed it!" Ryou protested. Inside his mind, his yami snorted. Malik looked at him weirdly.

"I'm not giving you any hot chocolate until you apologize for killing my favorite shirt!" Ryou stood in front of the pot with his hands spread on either side of him.

Malik pouted. "But I like hot chocolate!"

Sighing in resignation, the blonde stepped closer to Ryou and took his hand, putting on a penitent look. "Oh, Ryou, I'm so sorry I killed your shirt!" Tears glinted in the corners of his eyes. "Can you ever forgive me?"

It was hard for Ryou to take the display seriously with his yami howling with laughter inside his head. Loftily, he pulled his hand away and turned back to the pot, pouring a cup for the puppy-faced blonde.

They took their hot chocolate to the living room. Ryou sat gingerly on the edge of the puffy armchair, cradling his cup between his hands. He lifted it to his lips and took a small sip, glancing surreptitiously over the rim of the cup at the Egyptian. Malik was sprawled on the couch directly across from him, miraculously not spilling any of his hot chocolate. That _could _have been because he had already finished it.

Ryou tried to drink calmly, without looking at all the skin Malik managed to expose. His gaze flew to Malik's face, but the other seemed blatantly unaware of his provoking position.

"You done yet?" Malik asked.

Ryou jumped, blushing furiously. Had Malik noticed him staring? "What?"

"The hot chocolate," Malik said patiently. "Are you finished with it?"

"Uh, yeah." Even though Ryou wasn't done, he took both mugs and put them in the sink before returning to the living room.

"So," he said, trying to think of something to talk about.

"So what?"

He inwardly cringed at the stereotypical and inane question, but asked it anyway. "How's it going in Domino City?"

Malik cringed. "That's a really stereotypical and inane question, did you know that?"

"Actually, I did, but what else was I supposed to ask?"

"I know, but as your friend I'm telling you that you shouldn't ask me that. I mean, so has everyone else I've talked to from Domino City."

Ryou blinked (for the third time this chapter). "Fine. So are you a natural blonde?"

Malik's hand flew to his mouth. "Like, oh my gosh, does it really show?"

"Uh-"

"I was kidding," Malik said.

"Phew. You scared me for a minute there." Ryou paused. "What do you do in your free time?" He really didn't quite know what to do with this guy.

Malik gave up hoping for an original question. "How about _I_ ask _you_ something?" When Ryou nodded his assent, he said, "Ok, so: What is the air speed velocity of a swallow carrying a coconut?"

Ryou burst out laughing. "An African or a European swallow?"

Malik looked delighted. "So you've also seen 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail'! Isn't it an awesome movie?"

From there they moved on to other movies they had both enjoyed/hated, and then books, and then their favorite Beanie Babies, and then their favorite automatic weapons. During their conversation, Ryou noticed that Malik kept fingering the gold bands on his arms. After a while, he decided to ask about them. "Why do you wear those?"

"These?" Malik held up his arms. "I don't know. Don't you think they're pretty?"

Ryou, blushing, tried his best to answer the question objectively, and concluded that the bracelets and the chokers suited Malik very well. "Yeah."

Ryou's stomach growled. He looked at the clock, wondering if it was nearing dinnertime. "Yowch!" he cried out in surprise. "It's a quarter after midnight!"

Malik seemed unperturbed by the late hour. "Time really flies when you're having fun, doesn't it?"

Ryou looked at him, and smiled shyly. "We were having fun, weren't we?"

Malik stood up and perched on the arm of the chair. He put his arm around Ryou's shoulders. "Friends?"

Ryou tried hard not to flinch under Malik's arm, but against the sweet smile Malik was directing at him, there wasn't anything he could say but- "F-friends."

On that dreaded Monday morning, Ryou lifted his eyes from his desk just as Kaiba walked in, about a millisecond before the bell rang. Malik walked in a millisecond after it rang. By now the familiar gang was back in town. They surrounded Yugi's desk, all chattering about their eventful weekends. Malik was putting his backpack on the back of his chair when the topic of their discussion reached his ears.

"What did you do this weekend, Ryou?" Tea was the evil culprit.

"I wasn't too bored, actually. I spent Saturday evening with Malik. We had a lot of fun." They all blinked at him. People seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Joey broke the spell. "The blonde maniac?"

Hypocrite. Malik silently wondered whether or not he should give them a choice: should he shove his knife down their throats, or up their asses?

"Joey, that's not nice!" Yugi said immediately, unknowingly saving them all from a painful death. Malik decided to give them the choice after all.

"I don't know what you all have against him," Ryou said quietly. "He seems like a really nice and interesting person."

"I'm sure he is," Tea said tentatively. They had agreed not to mention Battle City at all, especially not around Ryou. Ryou didn't seem to remember hardly any of what had happened, and they saw no reason to call to mind the nasty experience.

The teacher finally walked in (ten minutes late) and the lesson began.

As it turned out, Malik was a fairly brilliant student, even if he didn't get along with most of the teachers. He tended to ignore them very blatantly in class, and still know the answer to any question they asked him.

Kaiba found Malik especially annoying. He was not that fond of the Egyptian to begin with, due to a certain kidnapping of his younger brother Mokuba. Malik sat behind him in class and had a tendency to peer over his shoulder and make comments about whatever Kaiba was typing at the moment, even if he knew nothing at all about the subject. Like now, for example. Kaiba was typing away, when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, irritated. "What?"

"You have a typo," Malik said earnestly. The amusement glinting in his eyes betrayed his less than altruistic intentions. Kaiba stared.

"Right there," Malik pointed helpfully, "third line, fifth word." Kaiba, ignoring the obvious intent of the obnoxious teen behind him, turned back to his work. He did fix the typo.

Three minutes later, Kaiba felt another tap on his shoulder. "You should fix that sentence. Argentine ants _do _belong to the genus iridomyrmex."

Malik received a rather fierce glare, for all his efforts. He smiled innocently.

Two minutes later, Kaiba heard a whisper behind him. "Fix the grammar in that last sentence. It doesn't read well."

A minute later, Kaiba felt the tap again. He slammed his laptop shut and turned, and in one swift motion, backhanded Malik across his face. The crack resounded in the suddenly silent classroom. Malik's head snapped to the side, his impertinent expression frozen in place. Then, he calmly straightened up and backhanded the CEO right back. A few students hooted in the background. "Let's see some ketchup!" Joey called out.

"Stop it! Stop this right now! Kaiba, Ishtar, control yourselves!" Ishimoto Sensei clapped his hands. "Report to me after class."

Assigned together to detention scrubbing desks and cleaning windows in their homeroom, Malik and Kaiba worked as far from each other as possible. Malik bent over his desk, scrubbing enthusiastically, then craned his head to look at Kaiba.

"Hey. This homeroom thing sucks. What's the point of it anyway?"

Kaiba momentarily stopped his window washing, his back still towards Malik. "What do you mean, what's the point?"

Malik had his Middle Eastern experiences in mind while he described his problem with the way the rest of the world worked. "Why do we have to separate during the day? If we stayed in one class, everyone would get to know each other better, and we'd be able to work well, as a unit. And the teachers would be able to keep track of us better." He grinned. "Not that that's a bonus."

"I don't really care who I spend my time with. The point is to get through the day as quickly as possible. I don't need 'unity' with anybody."

"That's because you've never experienced it." Malik flopped down on a chair. "Another annoying thing is this 'detention' stuff. Making us hang around the school cleaning desks just because there was a _tiny_ disturbance in class is stupid. If each student cleaned his own desk the job would get done in a fraction of the time."

"The idea is to encourage us to behave better during class, not to make us do everybody's job." Kaiba's tone implied his disdain for Malik's intelligence.

"No. Couldn't tell. But wouldn't docking our grades be much more effective? Especially in a country that puts such an emphasis on academia as Japan."

"They know that at least _one_ of us is an excellent student," and at Malik's sideways glance Kaiba added, "and the other one is moderately smart. So making us do menial work to get a point across is a better way. Why are you looking at me like that?" Malik was giving him a contemplative look. "I'm thinking of throwing my wet sponge at your head. Should I?"

Kaiba made a totally unexpected move. He laughed. Malik dropped the sponge in shock, and it landed on the floor with a drop-scattering _splat_. "Only if you want me to upend my pail over yours."

The classroom the next morning was still a little wet.

For the rest of the week, Kaiba treated Malik civilly. In return, Malik promised to try to refrain from making obnoxious comments. Life seemed good for everyone. Slowly, Malik felt himself integrating into this new life in Japan and especially into Yugi's group of friends. The shorter their memories seemed on a certain chapter in his life he'd hoped closed, the more he allowed himself to loosen up and act like natural around them. He seemed more cheerful, his smiles brightened his face more often, and his annoying comments tripled in number.


	2. Gangs and Geography

Woohoo! Chapter two! Please enjoy reading this.

SeventhDaughter: We had so much fun writing it. And please don't forget to R&R! Love you guys!

(SeventDaughter and Tramontana are the most powerful writing team ever seen! Bow before our holy powers! Ehm. Yeah.)

Tramontana Keeper: --

Hey, she's the delusional one, not me!

CHAPTER TWO

After the pond incident, Malik seemed to think that he had full rights to Ryou's house. He invited himself over after school on Wednesday, to do homework and hang out. Ryou was a little surprised at first, and reacted a little less than enthusiastically when he noticed Malik waiting until he unlocked his door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came over to help you with those math problems I know you're having trouble with."

"I'm not having trouble with math."

"Am I…bothering you?" Malik asked, sounding crestfallen.

"Uh, no. Of course not. There's some chocolate cake in the fridge if you want," Ryou suggested, holding the door open. Malik gave him an enthusiastic hug, before rushing in. "I love you forever, Ryou!" he called back happily. Ryou shivered slightly, not sure what bothered him more, the words or the hug, and entered the house. He began to get out his homework while Malik rummaged in the fridge.

He had almost finished tackling the physics assignment when he felt someone breathing down his neck. Malik rested his elbows on Ryou's shoulder and leaned over to look at the notebook filled with Ryou's neat, orderly notes. "That's Newton's second law that Nakano Sensei was going on about today?"

"Yeah. Malik, could you please get off me?" Ryou asked, becoming more uncomfortable with their position by the second.

"Sure." Malik sat down across from him and pulled the plate with the sliver of chocolate cake in front of him. "You're so rigid, Ryou. No play before work? Want a massage or something?"

"Malik! I'm trying to get my homework done before dinnertime, so will you please leave me alone for a while? When I'm done you can do whatever you want with me, okay?"

Malik looked delighted. "Deal. You really should have some of this cake, Ryou... it's great."

"Thanks for the compliment. I baked it."

"Wow, are you talented. If I was this good you wouldn't catch me hanging around on the streets."

"Malik – you… don't hang around on the streets."

"Right," Malik said quickly. "Yeah. Of course. I was kidding."

He pretended not to notice the calculating look Ryou sent him.

When Malik finally got up to go three hours later, Ryou walked him to the door. "There's always more chocolate cake waiting, if you want to come over again," he offered, waiting to see what Malik's reaction would be. Malik grinned and pretended to tip his hat.

"Don't offer that, I might just take you up on it. Besides, I have to make sure I don't get fat on your wonderful cake." He patted his completely flat stomach.

Ryou waved and shut the door. He leaned against it and concentrated on breathing slowly. His heart pounding, he tried to imagine a lifetime of afternoons spent with the cheerful Egyptian. He wondered what the heat in his cheeks meant.

"Interesting slip Malik had there, when you were talking," his yami commented suddenly.

"Yami?" Ryou asked, startled at the thought that his yami had been monitoring the whole conversation that afternoon. "What slip?" His yami was silent, leaving Ryou to figure it out for himself. "You don't mean – he really lives on the streets! Yami? Answer me! What do you know about him? Why do you think that?" It suddenly occurred to Ryou that maybe that was why Malik was so keen on coming to his house all the time.

On Thursday that week, Ishimoto Sensei stood up during second-period math and announced that the eighteen-page project in World Geography would be due on Wednesday the following week. Groans filled the class, but he held up his hand commandingly. "The project will be done in pairs, decided by me. You will give me the history of any of the following major cities, the common architectural styles, the gross population, the climate, the location, and such. All the information you need is on these sheets. The cities are as follows…."

Malik tuned out as Ishimoto Sensei droned on about the project. His gaze wandered around the class, finally settling on Yugi. He hadn't seen the pharaoh since Battle City, and he wasn't quite sure that he missed him. He had long since dropped his grudges toward Yugi, but he hadn't ceased blaming the world's defects on Yami. The short, explosion-haired (Malik mentally patted himself on the back for that description) duelist sat attentively at his desk. On his right, Joey noticed the intense stare he was giving Yugi and returned it in full. "Planning world domination again?" he mouthed. Malik glared levelly back. "At least I have a mind with which to plan it, unlike certain other people," read the note he sent to Joey.

The teacher began to read out the assigned pairings. "Takeru with Hanasaki, Gardner with Hakuritsi, Mutou with Mishu, Ishtar with Bakura…." Malik sat up straight in pleased surprise, and looked at Ryou expectantly. Ryou tried not to look startled, and to get his heart back to normal speed.

"Wait, sorry. Ishtar with Katsuya. My mistake. Shikotaka with…" Ryou slumped back in his chair and Malik tried not to look annoyed. He didn't have to look up to feel the daggers Joey glared his way. Looks like we're about to have a fun week, he thought with a mental sigh.

Their assigned city was Madrid, the capitol of Spain. During recess, Malik went over to Joey and sat down on his desk. "So, we'll meet at your house today?"

Joey glared. "How about we go to _your_ house?" They wouldn't be able to get much work done, because Joey's father was home. He wasn't sure he was so keen on letting Malik in on the fact that his father was a drunk either.

"How about not? I think it would work better at yours."

"Forget it. If you want to get this project done, then we're doing it at your house. End of story."

"Fine, fine. Don't be so touchy. Can you bring a floppy?" When he nodded, Malik removed himself from Joey's personal space and backed away. "I'll be ready for you at five-thirty."

Joey scuffed his shoes on the broken pavement, coming to stand in front of a scruffy whitewashed apartment building. He was very surprised to see where Malik's house was. This neighborhood rivaled even _his_ in its undesirability. He hadn't expected Malik to live anywhere so poor, with all that jewelry he walked around in. He climbed the steps to the fourth floor and knocked on the door.

Malik opened it and stood, filling up the doorway with his narrow frame. "Glad to see you made it." He didn't sound all that glad.

"I managed to escape harassment from the gangs around here, yes," Joey said. "Were you going to let me in?"

Malik reluctantly opened the door wider, letting Joey into his apartment. Joey entered and looked around. The living room was small, and rather dirty, looking as if Malik never bothered to clean. Actually, the living room couldn't really be called a 'living room', considering the lack of furniture; it was more of an empty room where a living room should be. There was an old table in the corner of the room, with one chair.

"Pull up the chair," Malik said sarcastically. "And feel free to keep your comments to yourself. I don't want to hear about it." Joey sat down on the chair, watching Malik go look for something in the single bedroom. He came back a minute later carrying a laptop computer, which he placed on the table. Joey started at it in surprise; he hadn't expected to see something like that here, considering the general lack of anything.

"Do you want something to drink or eat?" Malik offered. "I have some water, uh…." He studied the wall as if it were the most interesting thing around.

Joey, uncomfortable, nodded. "I'll have a little water then." He hadn't in his wildest dreams imagined Malik to be _this_ poor. The Egyptian's financial position made his own seem positively wonderful. Malik handed him a glass and sat down on the edge of the table. "You can stop pitying me any time you like."

"Actually, I wasn't pitying you. I…understand what it's like." Joey was reluctant to talk about his own situation at home, but he had never thought he would find someone he could relate to, and he certainly hadn't thought it could be Malik. "So, what do we have to do?"

"Research Madrid, I guess. Here, that's what I brought the laptop for. We can do an internet search." At Joey's look of surprise he added, "I have enough money for the really _important_ things in life." Apparently, Malik didn't consider food to be an important thing in life, but Joey wasn't about to comment on that.

They worked quickly and efficiently, hardly stopping to chatter, and were almost done with the first step in the project by the time it was dark outside. Joey stood up to leave, and Malik followed him. "It's dangerous, to be out at night in this neighborhood alone. Why don't I walk you at least part of the way?"

Joey raised an eyebrow at him. "I can take care of myself. I've had run-ins with gangs before this, you know." He didn't mention that he'd actually been _part_ of a gang, before he'd met and joined the yugi-tachi.

"That won't stop them from attacking you and beating you up. I'm coming with you."

"No need. Besides, how are you going to get back on your own?"

"I'll manage. Just a second." Malik disappeared into his room, returning with a knife stuck in his belt. He tossed one to Joey and bent over to slip one in his shoe without waiting to see if the other caught it. Joey flipped it over and tucked it inside his school jacket. They exited together.

The street was dark and gloomy, and shadows loomed from behind every jutting pole and building. Joey, for all his previous bravado, stuck close to Malik, trying very hard to ignore the shadows. Malik noticed this and chose not to comment, instead turning to him. "We worked really well today. We should get together some other time, not just for school."

Joey smiled slightly, his expression sort of far-off. No comparison could be found between the Malik he'd known in Battle City and the current Malik walking beside him. Even though the Egyptian was clearly quicker than he was, he sure didn't flaunt it the way Kaiba did. Joey finally began to understand how Yugi could give Malik a second chance. Maybe Malik, like Ryou Bakura, was just victim to a violent yami.

Abruptly, he was shoved against the nearest building. Strong hands tightened around his arms and held him in place, the grip strong enough to bruise. Turning his head slightly, he saw Malik in a similar position on his left before someone slapped his head against the wall and he saw stars.

"Look, it's the freak from building number eight. Who's this, Ishtar, your boyfriend?" The bullies burst into loud guffaws. Malik removed the hand from his shoulder that held him against the wall, neatly breaking the goon's wrist in the process. The injured goon howled and backed away, cradling his hand against his chest. Two of the others came forward and grasped Malik's arms, twisting them painfully behind his back. Malik ignored the pain, the feral grin on his face and light in his eyes directed with intensity toward the gangsters. "My, aren't you all so brave. Ten against two innocent, defenseless guys like us. Or maybe you're all just pissing your pants from fear because the last time you ambushed me I whipped your asses from here to Ashqelon!" It was obvious from their blank faces that they had no clue where Ashqelon was, or indeed _what_ it was. Not that they seemed to care too much either. The two goons who held his arms twisted them until he grimaced with pain.

"Don't feel so tough now, do you?" The leader of the gang, a muscle-bound brain-dead guy stepped closer to Malik. He tipped the blonde's head back and studied him, while Malik glared broadswords at him.

He bent over him and shoved his tongue down Malik's throat.

Malik clamped his teeth down hard; the gang leader staggered back, blood dribbling from his mouth, open as he howled curses. Malik spat out a mouthful of blood, his expression disgusted. "Man, that tasted awful!"

Joey watched in disbelief as Malik sassed the group of goons. There must be at least ten of them, what was he thinking! However, while this was going on he noticed that the attention of the one holding him seemed more focused on Malik. He contemplated trying to wriggle away, but stopped in shock when the gang leader bent to kiss Malik, only to stagger away immediately, bleeding. The look on Malik's face as he spit out the blood was positively scary. He almost looked as if it had been worth being hurt, just for the satisfaction of hurting the gang leader. Now, however, the other teens were truly furious, and it didn't look like Malik would be able to fight them all off at once (especially since his belt-knife was lying on the ground a few feet away, and he couldn't reach the one in his shoe). Seeing that he was being almost completely ignored, Joey decided it was time to act. He twisted nimbly out of the punk's grasp, shoving the heel of his hand into the punk's nose, breaking it. He let out a loud yell as he attacked, trying to draw the attention to himself. Malik used the distraction to free his arms, and reached for the knife in his shoe. He whipped it out, stabbing it into whatever part of the goons surrounding him that he could reach. He moved like a wildcat, ducking and twisting, seeming to land a blow with every hit but never to be touched. Finally, he ran out of targets, reaching Joey. The gang members had all either been incapacitated or fled by then. Joey was mostly okay, though he had several darkening bruises on his arms and face. Panting, he looked at Malik, who looked ferocious with the blood on his face and the dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"You okay?" Malik stepped closer and wiped a bit of blood from Joey's cheek. He turned away. "We should get out of here. Let's get you back to your house so you can get cleaned up."

"I think I can manage on my own at this point," Joey said, his heartbeat accelerated. He wasn't sure if it was from the excitement of the moment or from the close proximity he and the blonde Egyptian had been in just seconds ago. "Go home. If you get attacked again, this time I won't be around to save your ass."

Malik nodded and grinned. "By the way, you fight good." He started to leave, then stopped again. "If anybody asks…nothing happened out here tonight, right?" His grin was still in place, but his eyes begged Joey to understand.

"'Course not," Joey answered. "We worked on our project."

Relieved, Malik turned to leave again, waving nonchalantly at Joey. "Good night!"

The next day at school, when Ryou asked Malik how he'd received the bruises on his arms, Malik laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, you know, I fell down the steps on my way here and banged myself up a bit." He gave the same excuse to the teachers. Nobody was quite sure why the teachers accepted the stereotypical and obviously fake excuse, but someone pointed out that it just supported the theory of teachers' remarkably low IQ.

On the way home that day Malik strolled down the street, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He tried not to think about all of the impossible things that had been happening lately and tried to concentrate only on the future. Maybe he'd go visit Ryou today? Happily, he turned sharply to change direction, the prospect of chocolate cake looming bright, and smacked headfirst into someone behind him.


	3. Fishponds and Frogs 2

SeventhDaughter: Hey, thanks guys, to all of you who read this story, and especially to those of you who review it.  
Tramontana Keeper: Yup! keep up the good work, or we won't update...  
And let's have a big round of applause for our beta, Nehti!  
SeventhDaughter: now, on with the story...

CHAPTER THREE

Malik turned around suddenly, and smacked right into the person standing behind him. He grabbed the other person's shoulders, trying to steady them both, but only succeeded in overbalancing them and sending them headfirst into the fishpond that had appeared next to them. They fell in with a loud splash, drawing puzzled looks from bystanders. Malik tried to get off the other person, but their legs had gotten tangled up. Abruptly, he was shoved violently off as the other person sat up, spluttering.

"How-" hacksplutterchoke "-how did this fucking pond get here in the first place?" Bakura snarled, glaring at the passersby angrily. He ignored the fact that their pond was obscuring traffic because of its location in the middle of the asphalt road. He turned to Malik. "Oh, so _you're_ the idiot who knocked us in here. I should have known."

The Egyptian pushed dripping hair out of his eyes, looking annoyed. "I did it on purpose, just to annoy you. I'm glad to see it worked." They glared at each other, still sitting in the scummy water. A muted croak broke the silence. Bakura reached up and pulled a frog out of his hair, staring at it with disgust. Malik started laughing at the look on his face, but stopped abruptly when Bakura threw the frog at him.

"Hey, stop that!" he protested as it hopped frantically through the strands of his wet hair, trying to get it off him. The poor frog finally managed to escape, traumatized for life, and decided to go take a long vacation in Madagascar, away from all these overly excitable teenagers.

"Oh, quit making an idiot of yourself," Bakura said, pulling Malik up and dragging him out of the pond.

"_Me_," Malik muttered, finally giving up on getting the green stuff out of his hair. "You look like a bog monster, by the way." He was rather pleased when he saw Bakura close his mouth, peeved, apparently having been about to say the exact same thing. "I was just on my way to your house to see Ryou, but I guess he's not in residence at the moment."

"Oh, so now that _I'm_ in control you'll avoid us like the plague, is that it?"

Malik didn't quite know what to say to that, so Bakura began to drag him down the street in the direction of Ryou's house. Behind them, the innocent passersby wondered what they were going to do with the fishpond stuck in the middle of the street.

At Ryou's house, Bakura led Malik to the bathroom, pushing him in. "Hey, what are you doing?" Malik protested as Bakura started pulling at his shirt.

"You were standing like a deer in the headlights, dripping dirty water on the nice clean floor. We're going to take a shower."

"We?" Malik yelped.

"It'll take less time," Bakura said pragmatically, pretending he had no ulterior motives whatsoever. Malik shot him a deeply distrustful glare and shoved him out the door.

"Wait 'till I'm done, idiot," he said, and slammed and locked the door.

"Idiot yourself," Bakura called back. "Where are you going to get clean clothes if the door is locked?"

"Leave 'em outside the door, like normal people do," Malik yelled.

Two minutes after handing Malik the clothes through a (very small) crack in the door, Bakura began to bang on it. "Well!" he yelled. "Did you drown yourself or something? How long does it take to shower?"

"Shut up! It's been barely two minutes!"

"Well hurry up, already. With all the time you spend on showering, are you sure you're not really a girl or something?"

"I'm not even going to answer that."

"You just did."

Finally, Malik pulled the door open violently, wearing only a pair of close-fitting jeans and still rubbing at his hair.

"Took you long enough," Bakura commented, running appreciative eyes over Malik's bare chest. Malik threw his towel at Bakura's head.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, pervert. Now get in, or wasn't that what you were bugging me about nonstop for the past ten minutes?"

Bakura sauntered into the shower, pleased at having ribbed Malik so thoroughly. When he was done with his shower (which took less than five minutes, miraculously), he went to look for Malik. He found him in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and eating a bar of chocolate.

"Why do you eat chocolate all the time?"

"I don't."

Bakura sauntered over, putting his elbows on Malik's knees. Malik fidgeted, abruptly finding the position very uncomfortable. He kicked out, making Bakura dodge elegantly out of the way.

"Really, Malik," he chided, "when did you get so hostile? I thought we were _friends_."

"We're not," Malik said flatly, jumping off the counter. "In case you hadn't noticed, Battle City is over. I'm not who I was then anymore. Thanks for the clothes." He turned to leave, but Bakura blocked the door, staring intently at the Egyptian.

"You aren't nearly as changed as you'd like certain people to think, are you?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Bakura smiled widely. "Why are you so sure?" At Malik's unyielding expression he laughed slightly, trailing one finger down Malik's cheek. "Aww, how cute. He's in denial." Malik slapped Bakura's hand away, and shoved past him. He left the house without bothering to shut the door behind him.

Bakura followed him and stood in the doorway, watching Malik walk away. He shut the door with ambivalent feelings only when the blonde was out of sight. There were few things he enjoyed more than getting on Malik's nerves. Still, he felt rather annoyed at himself, because he hadn't wanted to get Malik so angry. He flopped down on the sofa in the living room, sighing. No, today's confrontation hadn't gone very well.

Malik walked with his hands deep in the jeans pockets, his head hanging. The proverbial black thundercloud of uncharacteristic solemnity hung over him. He heard, over and over again, Bakura's taunting words.

"_You aren't nearly as changed as you'd like certain people to think_."

Why had Bakura's statement bothered him so much? He shook his head. He knew why; he himself had used the same tactic on other people too often. It was easy to make a person believe that something they feared was true, especially if you knew exactly how to say it. It disturbed him that the tactic was working so well on him. Even though he _knew_ what Bakura was doing, he still couldn't help wondering if Bakura could see something he didn't, if he really hadn't changed. Even worse – what was Bakura planning? What was he trying to gain by playing psychological table-hockey with Malik's feelings?

Malik's hand unconsciously brushed the spot where Bakura had stroked his cheek. The gesture was just a part of the game; he knew that, so why was it bothering him so much? Why did he keep feeling the phantom touch? Why was he so sure that there was so much more behind that touch than Bakura had let on?

He and Joey worked on the project that weekend and the beginning of the next week, during school and in Malik's bedroom. After the one time Joey had come to his house, Malik no longer worried about Joey knowing his true financial situation. Joey in turn felt more comfortable with Malik than he ever had before, and soon concluded that he actually liked the blonde maniac, although he never forgot the way Malik had looked with the blood dripping from his mouth and the satanic look in his eyes the night they had fought the gang.

On Joey's fourth trip to Malik's house they finished the Geography project, both perched on the threadbare mattress that served as Malik's bed. Leaning against the wall, Malik held the laptop on his lap while Joey leaned on the wall next to him and looked over his shoulder to comment and correct. Finally, the last line was typed, the document was saved. Malik leaned forward and put the laptop on the bed in front of him, before stretching his arms and arching his back. Joey leaned forward as well. Malik turned a happy grin towards Joey.

"We're done!" he exclaimed, before throwing his arms around the other blonde and giving him an enthusiastic hug. Joey stiffened in surprise, not knowing what the gesture was supposed to mean. Malik didn't seem to notice his reluctance, but let go to get them both a ceremonial drink of ginger ale. Joey stayed frozen in place, his mind still spinning. It wasn't every day that a friend spontaneously jumped on him and hugged him. Malik returned with the ginger ale, and handed Joey a can.

"Joey, is something wrong?"

Joey scrutinized Malik's expression, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. He shook his head, accepting the drink.

"Hey Malik," Joey began, slumped against the wall once again, "remember the 'night that never happened', when that gang leader asked if I was your boyfriend? Why did he ask that?"

Malik pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. "Probably just to annoy me. It's the kind of thing that would get most guys angry, isn't it? Besides, I don't get many visitors." He looked up. "Why are you letting what that imbecile said bother you, anyway?"

"It doesn't bother me," Joey lied. "I was just wondering." Malik shrugged, and then yawned. "Hey Joey, are you going to move in the near future?"

"What? Not that I know of, but-"

"Good," Malik said, "'cause I'm tired." He leaned over, put his head on Joey's stomach, and closed his eyes. "Wake me up when you want to go home."

Joey stared down at Malik's head, not daring to move. Within moments, Malik's breathing slowed down and evened out, as if he were fast asleep. Joey couldn't help but think he looked so peaceful, so serene that way. He put down his ginger ale and reached over, gently shifting a lock of pale blonde hair from Malik's forehead. Then he snatched his hand away as if he'd burned it, disbelief showing on his face. What the heck had he just done!

Malik met Tristan unexpectedly the next day after school. He was bending over the seat of a motorcycle when Tristan walked into the repair shop. He was filthy, with black grease smudges all over him, his toolkit open on the floor beside him. His back ached from his unhealthy position on the floor and torrents of sweat dripped into his eyes, yet he felt at peace as he never felt anywhere else. He no longer had his motorcycle, and this was the only consolation he had been able to come up with to compensate for the loss.

Tristan wheeled in his motorcycle, a shiny black and red beauty. He leaned it against the far wall and came to stand on the other side of the motorcycle Malik was tucked beside. "The transmission in my motorcycle is off again," he said. Malik stood up from behind the Suzuki and saw his schoolmate. "Tristan!"

"Malik? What are you doing here?" Tristan looked as surprised to see Malik as the Egyptian was to see him.

"Well, I… I help out here sometimes, after school," Malik blurted, mentally kicking himself in the stomach several times.

"You work here, don't you?" Tristan accused. "You know that after-school jobs aren't allowed in Domino High."

"Yeah, I know," Malik said, wiping his hands on a dirty rag and dropping it on the floor.

"Why are you doing it? I mean, it's not like _you're_ exactly lacking-"

"Tristan," Malik interrupted quietly, "if I don't work, then the rent and other bills won't get paid and I'll be living on the streets. Not to mention I'll have trouble buying basic necessities like food." He didn't know why he was being so open suddenly. He just didn't want to ruin his good mood by getting into an argument, and this was the only way that Tristan would understand.

"You're kidding me," Tristan said flatly. "_You_? What about your sister?"

"She's in Egypt. She doesn't know I'm here." He hadn't talked to her in ages, for that matter, but that was nobody's business. "Rishid doesn't know either."

"You mean you're here all alone?" To say that Tristan was surprised was the understatement of the century. He could hardly think of what it must be like to be living completely alone in a foreign country, with no family and having to earn his own money, and still manage to be such a good student and not let anyone know about his situation.

Malik looked uncomfortable. He changed the subject to avoid having to elaborate any more on the conditions of his life. "So," he said, "you said you have a problem with your transmission?"


	4. Screws and Suicide

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews! And to those of you who asked about pairings- sorry, but you'll just have to wait and see! That's part of the story, you know. Read, enjoy, and review!

CHAPTER FOUR

Wednesday after handing in their bothersome World Geography projects, Malik once again found himself at Ryou's house. Sitting at the dining room table with his usual sliver of chocolate cake, Malik watched Ryou do his homework. He leaned across the table, spoon in hand, to look at Ryou's math notebook. "Hey, Ryou."

Ryou looked up, used to Malik's random and irrelevant interruptions by now. "What?"

"Why are you doing math problems from a twelfth-grade workbook?"

Ryou snapped the book shut. "Never mind."

"Sorry, sorry." Malik held up his hands apologetically. "If you don't want to, you don't have to answer anything."

Ryou decided that he'd had enough of schoolwork for the day. He got up and moved toward the living room. "Wanna play a game?"

Five minutes later, they had settled themselves on the floor around the coffee table, a game of Othello on the table before them. The game, an involved one that took them the better part of an hour to play, ended with Ryou as the winner.

While they waited for Yugi, who was going to study with them for a Literature test to arrive, Ryou picked up a book. Malik seemed content fiddling with something small he'd picked up from the table. Ryou was deeply engrossed in his book, so Malik caught him completely by surprise when he dropped his bombshell.

"Hey Ryou, wanna screw?"

Ryou's mouth opened and closed a few times in shock. His book lay forgotten in his lap and his heartbeat tripled its rate. His face turned red, embarrassment blossoming in his cheeks. "What?!"

"I said," Malik repeated patiently, holding out his hand, "do you want a screw?"

Ryou stared at the small, silver screw that lay in Malik's palm. "Good _God_ Malik, don't do that to me!" he gasped, just as the doorbell rang. Ryou rushed over to get it, but was followed by Malik's voice.

"But Ryou, screws are good! What would you do without screws in your bed, for example?"

Ryou stood with the door open, his face scarlet. "Shut up, Malik!"

Yugi was staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

"It's not what you think!" Ryou gasped at him. Malik strolled over to the door, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Hey Yugi, _you_ appreciate screws, don't you?"

At that, Yami took over and grabbed Malik by the collar. "What the hell do you think you're saying to my hikari!" he spat.

Malik innocently held up the screw. "It's a screw, see. Do you want it?"

"A screw," Yami repeated numbly, staring at it.

"Yes," Malik said. "Wonderful things, screws. They hold stuff together really well. Like your closet or the dining room table, for example."

Ryou snatched it out of Malik's hand. "I'll take that."

Malik grinned at him and gave him a quick hug, before running back into the living room calling out, "Yay, Ryou took the screw!"

Ryou and Yami exchanged a long, expressive look.

"Maybe he's smoking something," Ryou suggested timidly. "He sounds totally wonked."

"I think you're right," Yami muttered, as he followed him into the living room.

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Thankfully, Malik seemed to have calmed down a bit by the time Yugi and Ryou got to the living room. He didn't make any more perverted comments while they were taking out their books, which they took as a good sign. On the other hand, they discovered that this study session might be taking a lot longer than they thought, because Malik had a thing against literature. He persisted in pointing out all the reasons why what they were studying was stupid and unrealistic, and made fun of everything he possibly could.

"I can't believe they call this literature," Malik grumbled, waving the thin paperback through the air. "This has got to be the stupidest short story in existence!"

"Malik," Ryou sighed, "it's a commentary on the materialism rampant in today's society."

"It's a story about a delusional boy who thinks his piggy bank is a real pig."

"He doesn't think it's a real pig," Yugi protested.

"He talks to it," Malik said. "That is _not_ normal."

"You're missing the point of the story," Yugi said. "The pig symbolizes-"

"Yeah, I know. Friendship, unconditional love, contrast with the nasty father, blah blah blah." He slumped down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. "I hate this."

"We hadn't noticed," Ryou said dryly. "Look, the test is tomorrow, so you'll be getting over with it soon. Besides, all you need to do is spout a few pages of nareshkite-"

"What?" Yugi and Malik asked.

"It means nonsense. Just pretend you know what you're talking about and everything will be fine. So can we _please_ get on with studying, so we can finish today!?" he looked pointedly at Malik.

With a tragic sigh, Malik put down his book. "I'll just listen to you two," then, in an undertone, "I hate literature."

They finished studying around 21:00. Malik was ecstatic that they were _finally_ done, even though it hadn't really taken them that long. Before he and Yugi left, Malik gave Ryou a goodbye peck on the cheek. He smiled brightly. "Thanks for tolerating me." Yugi looked at him oddly, and Ryou stood paralyzed in shock, but Malik seemed not to notice.

"Let's go! See you tomorrow, Ryou," he called, dragging Yugi out the door.

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"You know, if you put as much energy into studying literature as you did refuting it, you'd have a much better time with it," Yugi commented as they walked down the road.

"But that's the only fun thing about it!"

Yugi sighed and gave up, deciding to try a different track.

"Where have you been, in the four months between when you came back to Domino and Battle City?"

"Why are you asking?" The slight tone change in Malik's voice alerted Yugi that something might be wrong.

"Because I worry about what happens to my friends."

"You do, don't you," Malik said softly, in a reflective tone. "I'm your friend?"

"I'd like to think so," Yugi said truthfully. "If anything is stopping you, it's not me."

"But, after everything-!" Malik blurted, then shut up.

"I believe in second chances," Yugi said, smiling at him. Malik still looked startled, but happier, too.

They were almost at his grandfather's game shop when he suddenly wondered something. "Malik," he asked, "where do you live?"

"Oh," Malik replied vaguely, waving his hand in half a dozen directions, "over that way."

"That's real specific," Yugi pointed out. "You just included all the places between Hawaii and Australia."

"I know," Malik said cheerfully. "I live in Micronesia."

They reached the game shop. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

"No reason in particular." Malik leaned forward and pulled Yugi into a quick hug, before skipping off down the road. "See ya!"

Yugi stood frozen, trying to understand what had just happened.

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Malik walked quickly, dropping the cheerful façade, hoping he wouldn't run into any thugs tonight. He really didn't feel like dealing with them right now. He could still hear Yugi's voice, '_I believe in second chances', _but that also brought Bakura's words from before to mind. _'You aren't as changed as you'd like certain people to think'_. He was starting to feel as if he was unworthy of Yugi's trust, as if he was hiding something from him. After all, nobody knew all the particulars of his life before he'd showed up during Battle City. He was probably quite a bit worse than they imagined. He knew that he had been bad, but in the few weeks right after the end of the tournament, he had discovered just how awful he had actually been. Even now, if he had any decency at all, he would hand himself in to the authorities and accept their punishment. His steps slowed, until he stopped moving entirely. He was a coward too, because he knew that he would never go and admit to his crimes. He was a truly disgusting person.

He heard the roar of a motor approaching quickly, and abruptly registered that he was standing in the middle of the street. He didn't move, waiting for the impact; a clean solution – he would finally get the fate he deserved.

Something barreled into him, knocking him out of the road, just as the car roared past (quite beyond the speed limit). Malik sat for a minute, dazed, wondering what had just happened.

Behind him, Bakura sat up and whacked him on the back of his head. "What the hell were you thinking?!" he yelled angrily.

"Bakura?" Malik said in surprise. The response was another smack.

"Answer me!" Bakura was surprised at how angry he was at the Egyptian. How dare Malik try to commit suicide? If anyone was going to kill him, it should be _him_, not some stupid drunk driver. Underneath that anger, though, was a knot of cold fear that drove him to grab Malik's shoulders and shake him, anything just to get some kind of response.

"I don't know!" Malik yelped, trying to dislodge Bakura's iron grip.

"What kind of answer is 'I don't know'?!"

"I don't know! I'm sorry, I don't know!" Malik cried, pulling away and hanging his head. "Stop hitting me."

"Quit acting like that," Bakura said, disturbed. He had never seen Malik look so pathetic before, and he sure as hell didn't like it. Malik ignored him, continuing to sit listlessly, staring at the ground.

"I really wanted to die," he whispered.

"Come on," Bakura said, dragging Malik to his feet. "I'm going to take you home. Where's your house?" Malik pointed mutely. Bakura led Malik through the streets, until Malik indicated the house that was his. Bakura could hardly believe that _this_ was where Malik was living, but he went in anyway.

"This is it?" he asked, turning to Malik for confirmation. At the nod, he went in, up the stairs and into the apartment. He was even more shocked by the inside than he was by the outside. This wasn't where someone like Malik should be living. Malik was the kind of person who should have luxury. He could easily imagine Malik living in a palace, tall marble pillars and hieroglyphics, where he would fit right in. Here, in the very essence of the word poverty, Malik looked completely out of place. He tugged the still unresponsive boy into the single bedroom, and pushed him down on the shabby mattress.

"Stay here," he said gruffly. "I'll get you something to eat?" Without waiting for the response he knew wouldn't come, he turned and went to the kitchen.

He opened the tiny fridge, only to discover it was practically empty. There were a few tomatoes and cucumbers, several apples and a bottle of milk. He closed the fridge in disgust, turning to the cabinets. There was half a loaf of bread sitting in one, and some plates and silverware, but other than that, they were empty. He stormed back to the room and gave Malik a dirty look, before sitting next to him on the bed and running his hands up Malik's sides. He had never registered before then how thin Malik actually was.

"Do you eat?" he demanded. "No, scratch that. How much do you eat?"

Malik muttered something about cafeteria food.

"I can't believe you're trying to exist off that crap," Bakura growled. "Don't you eat at home?"

Malik refused to look Bakura in the eyes, and mentioned bread. And vegetables. And that apples were quite cheap this season.

"Fuck." Now he understood why Malik liked Ryou's cake so much. Malik probably got every single calorie he had from that cake.

On the bright side, Malik finally reacted. "Shut up!" he snapped. "I don't need you passing judgment on my lifestyle! What do _you_ know about anything?" he added bitterly.

"I know that starvation is a nasty way to die, that's what."  
"I don't care. I don't need anybody. I'm going to get through this on my own."

"The hell you are. Did you at least save some money for a nice gravestone, then?"

Malik turned away from him, flopped down on his bed and put his head under the pillow. "Go away."

"Stay here. I'm going to get you some food, I'll be back soon. Maybe I'll get you some psychiatric help on the way."

Malik sat up, his eyes burning. "Bastard!" he hissed, pouncing on Bakura and shoving him into the wall before punching him across the face. Bakura kneed him in the stomach and grabbed his neck, causing Malik to double over and choke. He shoved Malik back onto the bed roughly.

"I'll be back in a bit," he snarled, and slammed the door behind him. Malik sat up, refusing to let the tears fall, even though an angry sob had caught in his throat. Since when had his life gotten this bad?

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Bakura opened the door to Malik's apartment half an hour later, four bags of groceries in his hands. With all the money he'd had on him, he'd bought a package of flour, some sugar, a carton of eggs and some butter, a bottle of coke and anything else full of sugar he could think of. He put them away in the fridge and in the cabinet, then went to look for Malik. He stood in the doorway to Malik's bedroom and stared down at his prone figure on the mattress.

Malik, curled up around himself, was fast asleep. He looked so vulnerable, like a lost kitten. On the one hand, Bakura preferred Malik when he was full of fiery spirit, but on the other hand, he couldn't help but find this vulnerable and lost Malik very appealing. He closed the distance to the bed and bent down, staring at Malik's still face. He gently traced Malik's cheekbones with his thumb; he contemplated marveling at their softness and decided that that was too sappy.

Malik cracked open one eye. "When you're quite finished?"

"Gah!" Bakura snatched back his hand and leaped backwards, tripping over his own feet and collapsing on the floor.

"Go ahead, molest me in my sleep, why don't you?" Malik grumbled, pushing himself onto his forearms and rubbing one hand over his eyes.

"Fine," Bakura said. "Go back to sleep and I'll molest you." He got up, dusting off his pants and trying to regain his dignity.

Malik laughed a little. "You never change, do you. Ah well, it was worth being molested just to see you fall down like that. I mean, 'gah'?" he started laughing even harder.

"If I had really molested you, you'd be saying much more than just 'gah', believe me."

Malik stopped laughing. "Not funny."

Bakura now grinned. "Bakura: one. Malik: zero."

"Oh really?" Malik got up quickly. "Well, you can get out now. Go play table hockey somewhere else!"

"What?" Bakura asked bewildered. "Table hockey?" He didn't resist as Malik pushed him out of the apartment, still trying to figure out what Malik had meant. How was table hockey related to anything? He banged his fist against the wall in annoyance. What was Malik playing at?


	5. Plans, Passion, and Pythons

Wow! So many reviews! You have no idea how happy you all made us! Huge, enormous thanks to**: v son saiyan**, **fanficlunatic234**, **chibichibimalik**, **Chibi**** B-Channie**, **Rapturous Voice**, **Aseria**, **Dark Magician Girl/ Hikaru**, **Ryouholic**, **Sango-irss**, and **SupremeHyren** (if you're reading this too….)

**Dark Mysteries**: Well, part of the point of the story is who ends up getting paired, so just wait and see…We're not sure how long this story will be, but definitely more than 10 chapters.

**Wolfbane2**: If we told you who he'd end up with, that would be giving it away, no?

**Lilmatchgirl007**: The table hockey thing was referring to before, when Malik thought about Bakura playing table hockey with his feelings. I _told_ SeventhDaughter it was too obscure, but would she listen to me? Nooo….

**HANDHELD Uber Rei Model 05**: Sorry for scaring you with the chapter name! Yeah, Bakura's an ass…but we all love him anyway!

**Ishtar**** Maliku**: Sorry, but Yami Malik isn't going to be appearing here. He's just (as we say) not _kashur_ to the storyline, and wouldn't fit. Glad you like the story anyway, though!

Enjoy the chapter!

CHAPTER FIVE

Three days after the unsuccessful semi-suicide-attempt, the gang crowded at table in the cafeteria during lunchtime. Malik joined them with his tray. "What's up, guys?"

"Hey, Malik. We're all gonna show up at the arcade today after school and have some fun. Wanna come along?" Joey asked.

Malik looked thoughtful for a moment. "Sorry, guys. No can do. I'm busy this afternoon, maybe some other time?"

"Oh, too bad," Yugi said.

Tristan tried to catch Malik's eye, but the blonde ignored him.

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That day was marked as special by the return of Otogi Ryuuji from his business trip to the Ukraine. Otogi tended to miss a lot of school because of his trips, and though it was rather annoying to have to keep up with material while on a business trip, he still quite enjoyed regaling everybody with his experiences when he got back.

Later that day, when they had all met up at the arcade, they sat around and eating dinner. Otogi had just finished telling them about his trip, when Tea abruptly changed the subject.

"Why do you suppose Malik couldn't come?" she wondered.

"Come where?" Otogi asked in confusion. "And with Malik? Isn't he that crazy guy from Battle City?"

"Shhh!" Tristan covered Otogi's mouth quickly. "We said we weren't going to mention that in public, remember?"

"He's actually pretty nice once you get to know him, if slightly weird," Joey corrected him.

Yugi agreed. "He is nice, but really mysterious. He wouldn't tell me where he lives."

"Wherever he lives, it must be somewhere poor," Tristan put in, "because I met him working after school at a motorcycle garage."

Tea leaned forward. "Joey, you went over his house to do the Geography project, didn't you?"

Joey looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, I was there."

"Well?" Otogi prompted.

"Listen," Joey said, "I really would rather not talk about it. I mean, it's his business, you know?"

"Does that mean it's bad?" Tea asked.

Joey sighed. "Forget it!"

"But Joey, maybe there's something we could do to help him," Yugi said worriedly

"Yugi," Joey said seriously, "if Malik's at all the way I get him to be, he's not going to thank you for trying to help him."

Otogi nodded in agreement. "He definitely doesn't seem like the really friendly type."

"Actually, he's pretty friendly," Tea said slowly.

"Maybe _too_ friendly," Joey commented dryly, thinking back to when Malik had taken a nap on his stomach. Not to mention the enthusiastic hug he'd gotten along with his ginger ale.

"What do you mean?" Tristan asked.

"Well, haven't you noticed how...weird he acts sometimes?" Joey responded evasively

There were some tentative nods of agreement.

"He goes over Ryou's all the time," Tea said. "I know, I see him on the way."

"I've seen him there when we were studying," Yugi said. "He seemed awfully friendly with Ryou," he added reluctantly.

Ryou burst into the arcade. "Sorry I'm late, guys," he panted. He pulled up a chair. "What was everyone talking about?"

"Ah, you didn't miss much," Joey said cheerfully, "just dice-boy bragging about his trip."

"We were wondering what Malik does at your house all the time," Otogi said.

Ryou winced at how bad that sounded.

"Oh, we just hang around, talk, play games. Eat chocolate cake," he added as an afterthought.

"Chocolate cake?" Tristan wondered.

"Malik's not really a big eater," Joey muttered.

"Come to think of it, he's awfully thin." Tea looked thoughtful.

"Sounds like he has money problems," Otogi said quietly

Ryou looked startled. "What?"

"Doesn't Malik have a sister?" Yugi wanted to know.

Tristan recalled what Malik had told him at the garage. "She doesn't know he's here. He lives alone, I think."

"Worse than that." Everyone turned to Joey, whose eyes were fixed on something in his lap. "He lives in a dangerous neighborhood in this dirty two-room apartment that barely has any furniture in it. He wanted to offer me some food when I was there, but I don't think he had any. I think he uses all the money he earns to pay for the bills and for an Internet connection on his laptop."

"That sounds like him," Ryou muttered.

There was silence for a few moments.

"What should we do?" Tea finally asked.

"I don't know if we can do anything," Tristan said reluctantly. "It's rather obvious that Malik doesn't want any help. I don't think he'd be happy if we told anyone or did anything."

Ryou bit his lip, horrified. How could Malik be so cheerful all the time?

"We can invite him over for a sleepover or something," Yugi suggested, "and have a big dinner. That way we can give him a comfortable place to sleep for a night and lots of food."

"But we can't do that too often, or he'll notice," Otogi said. Despite the fact that he hardly knew Malik, he too was getting caught up in the planning.

"We can pass around some chocolate bars at school. He likes chocolate, right, Ryou?" Tristan rubbed his hands together, warming up the idea.

"Yeah, great idea!" Ryou said enthusiastically. "And I'll make sure to invite him over for dinner and stuff more often."

"Guys," Joey said. "If we keep this up long enough, he's gonna notice for sure."

"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it." Yugi looked determined. "For the present, let's just make sure Malik has somewhere to go for dinner at least twice a week!"

1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The next day at school, the gang had crowded around Otogi again in the cafeteria. Malik came up and put his tray down.

"Hey Malik, want some chocolate?" Yugi held out a bar. "Otogi brought some back from Switzerland to give to everybody."

Malik accepted the chocolate. "Thanks," he said.

Otogi, Joey and Tristan heaved sighs of relief.

"I'm planning a sleepover at my house on Thursday night," Yugi added. "Everyone said they could come, Malik. What about you?"

A small smile lit up Malik's eyes. "Thursday? I think I can make it, yeah."

"All right!" Joey grinned. "I'll bring the movies, you guys bring the popcorn. Let's rock!"

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The week passed quickly for Malik; during school, he concentrated on classes, and after school, he worked every day at the motorcycle garage. He avoided Bakura as best as he could, dreading any confrontation where the tomb robber might try to do more about his situation at home. Unfortunately, Malik wasn't able to avoid him completely. Bakura cornered him in school on the Wednesday before the sleepover.

He stood at the sink of the boy's bathroom during a break and splashed water on his face, trying to hide the signs of exhaustion that showed clearly beneath his eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve and stared at his gaunt reflection in the mirror. He definitely looked sleep-deprived, and too thin; even his face was too thin. He'd been loath to eat the food that Bakura had bought him that night, but after a while the idea that it might go to waste had disgusted him enough to force him to eat it.

The bathroom door slammed shut as someone entered. Malik ignored whoever it was and rested his head wearily against the glass if the mirror. Rough hands grasped his shoulders and spun him around. He found himself staring into Bakura's angry eyes.

"Malik, this has got to stop."

Malik studied the other impassively. "Isn't it bad for you to be out during school? Someone might notice the difference between you and Ryou." He removed himself from Bakura's grip and headed for the door. "You should let him take over before something you'll regret happens."

Bakura caught his shoulder. "Damn it, Malik, stop trying to run away from me! Don't you understand that you need help!"

"No," Malik said coldly. "I don't understand and I don't need help."

"Look at you!" Bakura poked his chest. "People are going to start noticing how thin you are soon, if they haven't already. Or you'll just collapse from exhaustion. Why are you letting your STUPID-"

Malik slapped his hand away. "Not that it's any of your business," he snapped, "but I'm going to get my first paycheck in two days. I'm doing quite fine on my own, thanks a lot. I don't need help, especially not from YOU." He pulled the bathroom door open violently and left, slamming it behind him.

Bakura sighed and sagged against a stall door. So much for trying to reason logically with Malik. Why did he care so much what happened to the stupid blonde anyway? Why couldn't he stop thinking about the bare cupboards in Malik's kitchen, the empty living room, the whole damn shabby apartment? Why did he keep feeling Malik's jutting ribs under his fingers? Was it possible that he cared for Malik as more than just a friend?

Ridiculous, he told himself. Malik was no longer the daring, dangerous, crazy boy he had teamed up with in Battle City. Now he was just like all the other weaklings, alternating between serious, cheerful and depressed, and just plain too innocent.

Abruptly, he remembered how Malik had looked coming out of his shower shirtless, with the anger burning in his eyes.

Oh, but the bastard sure was sexy as hell.

Maybe if he just screwed the Egyptain's brains out he'd feel better... he groaned as images of sweating, naked Malik writhing beneath him crossed his mind. He leaned against the wall, trying to get his breathing back to normal. Now he was fucking obsessed with Malik. And it looked like he would be until he'd had his fun with the Egyptian.

Now all he had to do was figure out how. Bakura made a face. The way Malik was treating him now, the Egyptian would probably be quicker to bed the Winged Dragon of Ra.

School was going fairly well for Malik. He managed to scrape up pretty good grades without having to try very hard, and most of the teachers had learned to accept his disrespectful attitude because of it. The ones who hadn't just weren't wasting any more time over.

The students had also learned to accept him. After the rest of the class had seen how well he got along with Yugi and the gang they had decided he was pretty much okay. He still had occasional brush-ups with some of the more overconfident pricks in his grade, but he knew how to take care of himself, so he wasn't particularly worried.

He plopped down wearily in his seat, having left the bathroom and Bakura behind in a dark mood. He hoped that the tomb robber had taken his advice and gone to his soul room. He really didn't have the strength for another confrontation.

The bell rang and the break ended. Minutes later, Ishimura Sensei minced into the classroom. Malik slouched down in his seat, reaching into his backpack to pull out his books. He jumped in surprise when his hand met with a silky, slightly bumpy surface.

"Is there something wrong, Ishtar?" Ishimura Sensei demanded.

"Uhh," Malik stammered, then looked down at his backpack, which had started moving. A slight hiss was heard, and a triangular head poked out of his backpack. The girl who sat behind Malik screamed and leapt out of her chair. "What is that thing?"

Other screams were heard as the other students noticed the snake, and soon a large circle cleared around Malik's desk.

"Ishtar, what is the meaning of this?" the teacher demanded

"I swear, I don't know where it came from!" Malik said nervously, as the snake wrapped several coils around his waist and was moving its head back and forth in front in front of his face.

"It was in your backpack!" one of the girls screamed, "why did you bring that THING to school?!"

"It's not mine!" Malik protested.

"It seems to know you quite well," Ishimura Sensei remarked dryly.

"I find it impressive that he managed to fit a ten-foot snake into his bag," Kaiba commented.

"What he said!" Malik said quickly. The snake was now rubbing its head affectionately against Malik's cheek, something that tended to make him very nervous. That, and the coils around his whole body that shifted and moved constantly, tightening and loosening.

"Please leave the classroom, and take your pet snake with you," the teacher snapped in annoyance.

"It's not my-"

"See me after class, Ishtar. Now, get out!" Ishimura Sensei pointed a firm finger toward the door. Malik tried to get up, with the snake still coiled around him and casting evil looks at the rest of the class. He promptly collapsed on the floor, unable to carry the heavy snake. Malik registered the Evil Eye the rest of the class was giving him, and continued to try to crawl out of the classroom. The snake was unhelpful.

At that moment, the door opened and Bakura stood gaping in the doorway. He took in the scene and let out an explosive string of curses, both in Japanese and in Egyptian. He lunged forward, as if to help Malik on the floor, but the snake turned its head in his direction and hissed loudly, warning him away. Bakura backed away nervously. "Malik?" he asked, not having a clue what was going on.

"Don't look at me like that, I have no idea where this thing came from!"

Malik crawled out of the classroom, preserving what dignity he could. The snake continued to watch the class insolently until they were out of the room and the door was shut.

As soon as the door was closed, Malik collapsed onto the floor. He collided with a thump. It hurt, and when he looked down, the snake was no longer there. "Wha...?" he stared around, but it was nowhere to be seen. Malik dropped his head into his hands with a groan. This was not his day

He met with Ishimura Sensei after school in the teachers' lounge. Ishimura Sensei sat in a comfortable lounge chair and stared at Malik over the rim of a steaming cup of tea.

"That was a despicable thing you did," he began.

"I didn't-"

"By all means, I would never have expected a student of Domino High School to even consider such an act." He sipped his tea delicately.

"I'm sorry, but if you'll just listen-"

"Bringing a pet to school, much less a dangerous one, is a violation of restriction 312 of the book of rules. Therefore, the appropriate punishment is-"

"It's not my pet!" Malik growled. "How the HELL do you expect me to fit a ten foot PYTHON in my FUCKING BACKPACK?!" Malik slammed both hands onto the desk, by now completely furious.

"That will be quite enough, Ishtar," Ishimura Sensei said coldly, putting down his teacup. "You are hereby suspended until your parents come and clear this matter up with me." Ishimura Sensei stood up. "You are also required to do some community work for going over the pets restriction. I will contact you later to let you know what your duty will be. You're dismissed."

Malik stared in horror, the teacher's words reverberating through his head. There was no way his parents could come, considering they were both dead, and Isis, his legal guardian, didn't know where he was. He turned mutely and left the room, trying to figure out what to do.


	6. Jokes and Jealousy

Wah! We're so sorry it took us so long to update! You have to take into account our horrible school schedules, though. I learn over 60 periods a week, which is about 10 per day (7:10 am to 5:30, except it's not quite divided up like that…). And SeventhDaughter has one day where she sleeps in school!

Anyway. Thanks for all your absolutely wonderful reviews! And thanks to Nehti, our proofreader! We love you all!

And heheh, about the snake, which plenty of you asked about…I don't have anything to say, really. But it's an important snake. Yep.

In favor of a faster update, we won't put any reviewer responses this chapter, but we'll put some in next chapter, k?

**CHAPTER 6**

Malik stared dejectedly out the window of the car. He sat beside Ishimura Sensei on his way to do his community service. The teacher had been unwilling to listen to any of his protestations of innocence, so he would be spending all the days until his parents came mowing lawns around town.

Which looked to be an awful long time.

They finally pulled up in front of the police station, making Malik's face fall. It looked like any ideas of shirking wouldn't work. His disappointment must have shown on his face, for Ishimura Sensei gave him a tight, cold smile before leading him out of the car and towards the immaculately cut lawn.

They stopped in front of a strange green machine, nearly Malik's height, with handlebars at the top and a spiral cutter at the bottom.

Malik stared at the thing. "What's that?"

"It's your lawn mower. Now get to work."

Malik gave the lawn mower (which he privately named 'that ugly thing') an experimental push. It was quite heavier than he expected, and refused to budge. At the glare from Ishimura Sensei, Malik pushed harder, until it finally started moving. Yay, Malik thought sarcastically.

"Have fun," Ishimura Sensei said as he got into his car and drove off.

Once it was moving, it was easier going, but Malik was convinced he had pulled all the muscles in his arms and back by the time an hour had passed.

He stopped at the end of a row, resting his head against the handlebars. Abruptly, the wheel slid forward, making him nearly fall and the handlebars fall on his foot. Malik yelped and pulled his foot out, then cursed and kicked the ugly thing, stubbing his toe. Malik cursed even louder. "You stupid, fucking, good for nothing damned piece of metal! Son of a camel fucking sheep and a glyptodont!" He hopped up and down on one foot. "Oww."

"That was colorful. Want some?" A young uniformed policeman stood in the shade of the police building. He held out a bottle of water.

"Thanks." Malik took it and drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I should get back to work."

"Doing community work?" When Malik nodded, the policeman went on. "Watcha do to get yourself into this mess?"

Malik wiped the sweat from his forehead. "A fucking python came out of my backpack in the middle of class," he said bitterly.

"A what?"

"A python, you know, a large snake? And I have no idea how it got there!" Malik said, seeing the look he was getting. "Something that size shouldn't have even been able to fit there!"

The policeman patted Malik sympathetically on the back. "Right. Okay, I've gotta go in, I'm on duty soon." He smiled and waved, leaving Malik to the heartless community work. "See ya around!"

Great, Malik thought to himself. Now this guy thinks I'm crazy, too.

It took him three whole hours to finish the entire lawn. When he was done, he reported to the front desk inside the police department. "You the kid they sent to do community work here?" The policeman on duty asked. "They said you should do the back, too."

"What?" Malik blinked, his weary mind not processing the information.

He trudged back out to deal with moving the huge ugly thing to the back. Life could not get any worse, he thought.

It began to rain.

"Oh, no!" Malik screamed at the sky. "You are SO not raining on me! Quit it this second!"

The policemen inside shook their heads pityingly. "Poor demented kid."

It started hailing.

* * *

Malik plodded along the wet road, completely soaked. The rain hadn't stopped all day, and he had no umbrella, so he had no way to dry out. At least it would be warm at Yugi's. Warm was good, he thought, as he shivered. His own house was pretty cold.

A few minutes later, he knocked on Yugi's door. Joey threw it open and dragged him in. "The snake-charmer is here!" he cried.

"Funny," Malik muttered, as he tracked water into the house.

Cheers could be heard from inside. "Make room near the heater, make room!" Otogi sat him down and Tristan heaped a warm blanket over him. Ryou stood in the doorway of the kitchen and looked at Malik. He felt like drooling; Malik's wet hair flopped over his face and his clothes, already tight to begin with, stuck to his narrow frame like a second skin. Malik looked so damn _sexy_. It should be a crime to walk around wet, he thought. He ran to get a towel.

Malik was fussed over, as Ryou toweled off his hair, and Yugi brought him some hot chocolate. He kept waiting for the inevitable questions about why he was so wet, but they never came.

Instead, Yugi said, "You really should change out of those clothes. Want some of mine?"

Malik looked the short boy over with a grin. "No, I think I'll settle on my pajamas."

He reached for his bag, and Joey shouted, "Everybody watch out for some more snakes!"

"Very funny," Malik growled as the rest of the gang chuckled. "Which way's the bathroom?"

He emerged five minutes later wearing black sweatpants with a red stripe on each leg and a large blue sweatshirt with big white English letters on the front. Otogi took one look at him and laughed.

"What? What's so funny?" Malik asked, annoyed, looking down at himself. "Are my socks mismatched or something?"

"No, it's just that… your sweatshirt…" he had a hard time speaking, he was laughing so hard.

"What? What does it say?" Joey asked, strangely interested.

"It says "Bais Yaakov School for Girls."

There was a pause, before everyone burst out laughing. "Hey," Malik protested. "My sister gave it to me! I don't even know what Bais Yaakov is!"

"Is there something you'd like to share with us?" Tea asked suggestively, still laughing.

"Oh please," Malik huffed. "You all are ridiculous."

"But you'd make such a cuuuuute girl!" Tristan said

"You'd make a cute light bulb, but we don't talk about that, do we?" Malik answered. 

Yugi clapped his hands. "Let's get some dinner now." They all calmed down at the prospect and hurried towards the kitchen. Yugi started digging through the fridge while everybody else sat down on whatever available surface they could find.

"We have some yogurt, some salad... hey, how about leftover stuffed turkey?" Yugi asked, pulling out a platter.

"Yeah, great!" Joey said enthusiastically.

Similar sounds of agreement were heard from everybody except Malik, who looked uncomfortable.

"Malik?" Ryou asked, "is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," Malik said quickly. He didn't want to complain about the food, it was nice enough for Yugi to invite him in the first place, but – "I'm vegetarian."

Oops, was the general thought floating around the room. It was completely counter-productive if Malik didn't eat anything!

Yugi quickly saved the day. "We have some salad too," he said. "Is that ok?"

Malik said it was, and they settled down to eat. Malik tried not to wolf his pineapple yogurt and bowl of salad down too quickly. He didn't notice the knowing and pointed looks exchanged between the others every so often.

"Hey, I have a joke," Tristan said suddenly. Everybody looked up expectantly, encouraging him to continue.

"Ok, here goes. One night the Norse god Thor got lonely and decided to go down to Earth to get laid."

"Tristan!" Tea protested jokingly. Everybody else shushed her.

"So he went and picked up a pretty Norse girl in a bar," Tristan continued his narrative, "and they both went and boinked. The next morning when they woke up, Thor decided to tell her what good fortune she had in sleeping with him. "I'm Thor," he said.

"Tho am I," she answered, "but it thure was fun!"

There was a pause before the punch line sunk in. Then Joey burst out laughing. So did Yugi, Otogi and Malik. Tea tried to frown, but a smile tugged on her lips.

Ryou laughed only a little. "Guys, it wasn't _that_ funny." He regretted having said that as soon as he noticed how cute Malik looked, with his eyes all scrunched up and happy grin on his face.

"Aw, Ryou, that's just like you!" Malik reached over to ruffle Ryou's hair.

Otogi calmed down. "Nah he's right. It was stupid." He looked at his plate contemplatively. "I still laughed, though."

"I wonder why we do that," Yugi asked. "Laugh at stupid jokes, I mean."

"People have a sort of tendency to laugh at stupid things, I've noticed." Tea ate her last bite of turkey and put down her fork. "And DO stupid things also," she added under her breath

"Like what?" Joey said challengingly.

"Like...watch porn!"

All the boys blinked. Joey stared at the ceiling and whistled innocently.

"Um," Ryou coughed, "can we move on?" 

Malik laughed. "Ryou just doesn't want you all to know about the collection he has at home!"

"Malik!" Ryou cried, "that is so not true and you know it!"

"You're prooootesting too much!" Malik said in a singsong voice.

"That's it!" Ryou crossed his arms. "I'm not going to give you any more chocolate cake!"

"Noooooooooo!" Malik wailed, "anything but that!" He got down on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. "I'm sorry! I'll never mention the huge porn collection you don't have to anybody ever again!"

The others, meanwhile, were watching this by-play in great astonishment.

"Uh, guys?" Joey said. Malik and Ryou looked up, to find that everyone was staring at them weirdly. Both of them blushed furiously; they had completely forgotten there were other people around. As Malik stood up from the floor, Ryou noticed how incredibly adorable he looked, his dark cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Speaking of chocolate," Tea suggested in the following awkward moment, "Yugi said he got us something special."

"Really?" Joey said, ever excited about anything concerning food. "What?"

Yugi pulled out a largish square box. "Doughnuts!" 

"Dibs on the chocolate one with sprinkles!" Tristan called, reaching across the table to grab one.

"Wow, I haven't had doughnuts in ages!" Tea said excitedly, grabbing a chocolate-filled one.

Malik took a caramel-filled doughnut. "What are these things?"

Everyone stared at him in shock.

Joey stopped mid-bite. "You don't know what doughnuts are?"

"I can't believe you're so deprived!" Otogi said tragically.

Malik picked up his doughnut and sniffed it. "Smells.... sugary."

Ryou patted him on the back, voicing what everybody else was thinking. "That's the idea, Malik."

Malik was horribly conscious of the six pairs of eyes focused on him as he went to take a bite.

He chewed it slowly, an unreadable expression on his face, and swallowed.

The gang held their breathes.

"It's pretty good," he said finally. He grinned at their disappointed expressions. "Just kidding. It's awesome!"

"Now your life has been fulfilled," Joey said

He chomped down on the doughnut and it disappeared under ten seconds.

"You can have mine too," Yugi offered, "if you want. I really don't have any room left."

"Really?" Malik's eyes lit up. He snatched it from Yugi's plate. "Thanks."

"Be careful Ryou, your chocolate cake now has a competitor!" Tea said. 

When the doughhnuts had been finished, Joey stood up. "Time for the movies!" he announced.

They trailed into the living room, licking the last bits of sugar from their fingers.

"So, what have you got, Joey?" Otogi asked, settling himself down on the couch.

"Lessee..." Joey shifted through his backpack. "I have Splash, the first Star Wars movie, and Kill Bill one..."

"Kill Bill!" Tristan chose immediately.

"I dunno, I heard it was kinda violent," Tea said dubiously.

"I heard it was really good!" Yugi said enthusiastically. "I really wanted to watch it!" 

Malik grinned. "Sounds good to me. I like Quentin Terentino."

They settled themselves on the couch and floor as the movie began, opening with the scene of the bloody Bride.

Otogi had plopped himself down in the middle of the couch. Ryou sat down on his left, and Tea on his right. This left the floor to Joey, Tristan, Yugi and Malik, who sat on some cushions.

"I'm not liking this already," Tea muttered.

Yugi passed around a bowl of popcorn.

The roving bowl of popcorn ended up between Otogi and Tea. Reaching for it during a suspenseful part in the movie, Malik leaned backwards over Otogi's lap, resting his elbow on Otogi's knee.

The movie was fast-paced, exciting, and certainly violent enough. Tea's worst fears came true. Most of the boys, on the other hand, were enjoying it immensely.

Yugi, however, found it slightly more violent than was necessary, and Ryou didn't like it much either.

Otogi didn't voice a protest when Malik left his elbow resting on his knee even after the popcorn was done. However, when about half an hour into the movie Malik decided he wasn't comfortable enough and put a pillow against Otogi's knee and rested his head on it, Otogi decided it was a little too weird. "Malik?" he whispered uncertainly.

The blonde's gaze left the screen for a minute as he turned to the other duelist. "Hmm?"

Otogi bit back the comment when he saw how comfortable and content Malik looked. "Nothing."

Truth be told, Ryou wasn't enjoying the movie very much. It had its funny parts, sure, but the excessive blood and gore really wasn't his thing (though he had to admit it had cool fight scenes).

He turned his head away in disgust during the particularly pleasant scene where somebody's head got chopped off and the blood was fountaining up to the ceiling.

Malik glanced his way, saw his revulsion, and patted his knee, flashing him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen.

"C'mon Ryou, don't let it affect you like that! It's hysterical!"

"What's funny about it?" Ryou whispered back.

Malik cocked his head to the side, grinning. "I dunno, it just...is." He turned back to the movie. "Besides, it looks like it's almost over."

Ryou caught himself wishing then that Malik would turn and smile that beautiful smile at him again. He shoved the wish down his throat to his fluttery stomach and told it to stay there.

Kill Bill ended gloriously. With the end of the movie, everybody sat up to stretch, including Malik, something that Otogi was thankful for.

The clock on the wall read 9:17 when they sat back down after a short break to watch Splash. Joey plopped himself down on the floor at the foot of the couch. "Start the movie, guys."

Malik was already tired from his long day, and about ten minutes into the movie, he decided he was too tired to stay upright. He crawled over to Joey and curled up against him, putting his head against Joey's arm.

Joey stiffened slightly, then relaxed. He had gotten slightly used to Malik's tendency to lie all over people, but was still uncomfortable. He was also horribly aware of the strange looks he was getting from the rest of the gang.

Malik, however, remained oblivious.

Ryou shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and realized what it was that bothered him about the scene: jealousy. His eyes bore angrily into Joey's back. He wanted Malik to be leaning trustingly against _him_, not against Joey.

Bakura, watching through his unknowing hikari's eyes, also felt the stirrings of jealousy. Scratch that -he felt positively murderous. What right did the mutt have to touch HIS Egyptian like that?

Sometime around the middle of the movie, Malik crawled off Joey and headed out of the room. As he passed, Yugi asked softly, "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," Malik whispered back.

Bakura's eyes followed him until the dark hallway beyond the living room swallowed him up. He left his soulroom and easily overpowered Ryou, then stood up.

Everyone turned to stare, startled.

"Joey." He gestured. "Move."

"Wha...?" Joey stared up at him.

"I said move!" Bakura grabbed Joey's arms and dragged him away from his spot on the floor.

"What the-" Otogi began.

Yami grabbed the front of Bakura's shirt. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Bakura shoved Yami away. "Switching places with the mutt, asshole. Sit down and keep your big mouth shut for once, you goody two-shoes!"

'Yami!' Ryou protested. 'What are you doing?' 

'Shut up. You know you want this.'

"What's going on?" Everybody turned at the innocent question. Malik stood in the doorway, a puzzled look on his face.

Swiftly, Bakura retreated. 'I'll leave this to you. I just gave you a chance, don't you dare screw it up!'

Ryou gulped. "Uh... nothing. Joey wanted to switch seats with me." He sat down to prove the point.

Joey nodded quickly, making himself comfortable on the couch, almost glad that Malik would no longer be leaning on him.

Malik looked between Ryou and Yami, sensing that something was wrong, then shrugged and lowered himself to the floor next to Ryou. He put his head on Ryou's shoulder. "It's a good thing this movie's almost over – it's too girly."

"Boys have no appreciation for good movies," Tea sighed.

'Put your arm around him,' Bakura commanded.

Ryou, flustered, already uncomfortable at the closeness, flatly refused. 'Yami, The others will notice!'

'It's dark. They won't notice. Besides, who are you more scared of? Me, or them?' 

Ryou shivered. It had been ages since his yami had openly threatened him.

"Cold?" Malik asked him.

"A- a little." At his response, Malik snuggled closer. "Here, let me help."

Ryou blushed as Malik wrapped his arms around his waist. Slowly, nervously, he draped his arm around Malik's shoulders.

They stayed close throughout the entire duration of Star Wars, A New Hope. Ryou relaxed and began to enjoy having the beautiful Egyptian pressed close up against him. He was glad that Bakura had made him switch places with Joey.

Bakura, now that he was so close to Malik, and could feel and see and smell him through his and Ryou's connection, struggled to resist the urge to take over, shove Malik onto the floor and do something unmentionable. He managed to resist till the end of the movie, but only barely.

When it finally did end, at around twelve-thirty, they crawled into sleeping bags. Ryou noticed that Malik, who had fallen asleep immediately, had placed his sleeping bag in the coner of the room. As he dragged his over and lay down in it, he wondered why Bakura had helped him get close to Malik. Since when did Bakura ever help people when it wasn't in his best interest to do so?

'Yami' Ryou began experimentally, once he was lying down, 'why did you do that?' Receiving no answer, he tried again. 'Yami, why did you make me sit next to Malik?'

His yami finally answered with a snicker. 'Wouldn't you like to know, silly hikari.'

* * *

Whew! Hope you enjoyed that chapter!  And don't forget to review! 


	7. Friends and Favors

Finally, an update! Sorry it took so long, and sorry this chappie's shorter than the others…the next chapters will be longer, promise!

**Ladywolf**** Terri **– About living with them, definitely makes sense, no? But there's still time until we get there! Biiig important things still need to happen, yep yep!

**Little Q** – Your review made me feel all fuzzy inside! Actually, I have this weird disease called 'plotosis', which demands that everything have a plot and a reasonable explanation yadda yadda (well, the snake was an exception…). Hence, consequences of actions. And don't worry about Malik, he'll survive the lawn mowing.

**Akuryunoseiki** – I promise I'll read your fic after my tests in physics, citizenship, writing, and art, k? Before then, I hardly have time to breathe….

**HANDHELD Uber Rei Model 05** – Well, which melody of 'Hallelujah'? I know quite a few…glad you're enjoying!

And thanks to : **Ishtar**** Maliku**, **Chibi**** B-channie**, **Lilmatchgirl007**, **Esprit and Tessa**, **Forbidden Pyro**, **WolfBane2**, **Chibichibimalik2**, **Dark Magician Girl** /**Hikaru**, and **Violet Dust**! We love you all!

Of course, let's not forget Nehti our beta and SeventhDaughter the coauthor. You're not hearing from her so much 'cause she has a crazy school, and a sucky computer which is going cuckoo as we speak.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Malik climbed out of the car, off to another day of backbreaking, inhumane, devastating manual labor. At least Ishimura Sensei had agreed to drive him (to make sure he didn't try to shirk), which saved him having to get all across town on his own.

Malik looked up at the huge building at the end of the seemingly endless lawn he was supposed to mow, with some surprise. The large 'K.C' symbol seemed familiar, for some reason.

"Is this Kaiba Corp.?" he asked, when he finally placed the initials.

"Yes. Have a nice day!" Ishimura Sensei said nastily.

Malik dragged the Ugly Thing over to the corner of the lawn, purposely ignoring the teacher. He didn't want to find out how the authorities would react if he smashed the Ugly Thing down on someone's (namely the Evil Bastard Teacher from Hell's) head.

Malik began to mow, his mind blanking out once again, as it tended to do now that all he had to do was manual work that demanded no thought at all. Back and forth he pushed, back and forth, across the huge expanse of green grass. He had tried to make the work interesting once, but after mowing the phrase 'Ishimura is a bastard' into the lawn in front of the museum, they had threatened to double his workload if he pulled the stunt again.

Maybe I'll try drawing Kaiba's face into the lawn, he mused to himself, trying to imagine people's expressions when confronting the green face of the CEO in the grass.

On second thought, maybe he didn't want to see if Kaiba had any homicidal tendencies. Besides, he already had an enormous area to mow, and adding more to the workload would be just plain stupid.

He took a lunch break sometime during the long afternoon. Stepping into the shade of the first huge K.C building in the complex, he munched dejectedly on a Mars Bar before returning to work.

A familiar arrogant voice from the path attracted his attention. "So Ishtar, this is where you vanished to. I suppose you're enjoying finally putting your full potential to good use."

Malik's head shot up from contemplating the grass (which he was beginning to detest with a passion) to look at the brunette CEO. Kaiba stood with his hands in his pockets, a smirk stretched across his face.

Malik stared at him tiredly, his mind completely blank of any smart retort. Instead, he walked over, and as Kaiba watched him with interest, picked up and handful of grass and threw it in the general direction of Kaiba's face.

The grass didn't even come close, fluttering pathetically to the ground between them.

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "Ah, yes. NOW I'm impressed."

Malik turned away in mock defeat. Then he swung around swiftly and, catching them both by surprise, leaped at the CEO. They fell in an undignified tangle to the grass, where Malik rolled free quickly. He grasped a handful of grass and lunged at Kaiba, stuffing the handful down the front of Kaiba's stiffly pressed shirt.

Kaiba clutched at the collar of his shirt. Malik looked down at him triumphantly, then moved off and wiped his hands on the CEO's pants. "That'll teach you not to mess with me anymore, grapehead."

Kaiba stood up and shook himself off, but succeeded in getting rid of very few of the stray grass stems in his shirt. "You're such a loser, Malik," he told the Egyptian's back.

"You're a SORE loser," Malik answered.

"I haven't lost yet." Kaiba lunged forward, and, in one perfectly executed movement, knocked Malik to his knees, at the same time stuffing a grassy handful of his own down the back of Malik's tight black shirt. Malik instinctively rolled over, trying to get away, which brought his face within centimeters of Kaiba's.

He grinned mischievously, putting both arms up around Kaiba's neck. "Ohh, Kaiba," he mock purred, "I didn't know you felt this way about me!"

Kaiba abruptly did a double take, noticing their position. He didn't want to know what the paparazzi would make of this, if they got any pictures. He sighed tragically. "Much as I would love to consummate our undying love right now, I don't think that the _half-mowed lawn_ is the right place for it." He got up in as dignified a manner as he could, and gave Malik a hand up as well. He restrained the urge to mirror Malik's silly grin. He could hardly admit to himself that rolling in the grass with Malik was fun.

Malik turned ruefully to his lawnmower. "I guess that's my cue to get back to work."

"I do have a gardener, you know," Kaiba said.

"But, if I shirk-"

"Who's to know that you left? Don't worry, one way or another the lawn will get mowed."

Malik ran fingers through his messy hair. "Geez, Kaiba, that's really nice of you. I never thought you were like that."

"Whatever. Just get going." Kaiba wasn't quite sure what made him act so...nice to the Egyptian. Maybe because he's my friend? he thought in surprise. He had always thought that being friends was a great demand on one's time, the way Yugi's crowd seemed to spend every waking minute together and worrying about each other. Now though, it seemed like something much more casual, and involving much less effort. And a lot more enjoyable.

After ditching the Ugly Thing, Malik happily started home, looking forward to the prospect of a free afternoon. He was supposed to get the next two days off too, as his weekend, and then go straight back to work, but the bright vision of Saturday and Sunday kept him bouncing happily along the way home.

He passed the street where Ryou lived, and after a slight hesitation, decided not to visit Ryou just then. He intended to spend some time with Ryou while he could, but for now, he wanted to take some time off by himself. Especially after his friendly brush with Kaiba.

Who'd have thought the stiff CEO could be so nice?

"My, my, look who's so happy today."

Malik spun around, flinging his hair into his face in the process. Bakura stood with his arms folded across his chest, leaning against a nearby tree.

"What do you want _now_?" Malik wasn't in the mood to deal with Bakura. And the afternoon had been looking so good, too....

Bakura sauntered forward, smiling slightly. "You have some grass in your hair," he commented, reaching one hand to sift through the fine strands.

Malik slapped his hand away.

Bakura sighed. "Why are you always so hostile? Do you feel threatened by me?"

"As if," Malik all but snarled back.

Bakura advanced on Malik, making the Egyptian take a quick step back. "Not threatened at all, eh."

"Fuck you."

One of Bakura's hands was on his shoulder, holding him against the tree. "With pleasure," the thief purred.

Malik removed himself and put a few meters' distance between them. "Was there something you wanted?" He struggled to keep his voice even, resolving to hold his ground this time.

"Of course. You."

"I FIGURED THAT OUT ALREADY!"

"But Malik, it's natural for someone like me to be attracted to someone as smart and as pretty as you."

"Someone like you?" Malik asked with an elegantly arched eyebrow.

"Someone as unscrupulous and beautiful as me."

"More like a narcissist and an ass."

Bakura smiled, almost sheepishly. "Yeah, that too."

Malik gave Bakura a weird look.

"What?" Bakura immediately snapped back.

"Nothing," Malik said. He walked off in the direction of his apartment, Bakura falling into step beside him. "Why are you following me?"

"I'm trying to have a civil conversation with you."

Malik rolled his eyes.

"You even get along with the Pharaoh's brat. Why do you refuse to give me a chance?"

"Because Yugi's nice and you're an annoying dolt," Malik answered absently.

Bakura fell silent, something within him shriveling up. Did Malik really feel that way about him? It looked like no matter what he did, Malik truly detested him. "Other people have feelings too, you know," Bakura blurted, before he could stop himself.

Malik stumbled and nearly fell. What did Bakura mean? He had never thought something like that would hurt the tomb robber's feelings! He had never thought that Bakura _had_ any feelings, truth be told. "Sorry," Malik said lamely, "I didn't mean- well, not really- I just- I-"

"Oh, quit making an idiot of yourself," Bakura said, with a definite hint of fondness in his voice.

Before Malik knew what he was doing, he had flashed Bakura a small grin. "So far, the only idiot here is you, a fact which you seem to enjoy making painfully obvious."

Bakura playfully punched the Egyptian's shoulder. "It's ok, Malik, I understand that being with me causes you to have feelings of inadequacy. Don't feel bad, it's only natural."

They talked freely and joked as they walked, and were almost at his doorstep before Malik noticed how far they'd come. Suddenly it hit him, as he looked at Bakura's white head thrown back as he laughed at a dumb comment one of them had made, that something was different.

It scared him, that difference, that easy camaraderie he and Bakura had slipped into as soon as he'd forgotten to act hostile. It was frightening, yet pleasant.

No matter how he looked at it, though, any friendly relations he would maintain with the tomb robber would forever remind him of the Malik from Battle City, that wild and crazy boy who had stopped at nothing to gain what he wanted.

Malik put his hand on the handle of the door to his apartment. His expression grew frosty, his eyes cold. "Thank you for walking me home," he said stiffly and turned his back on the other.

Bakura stared at the sudden change. They'd been getting along so well, what had happened? Had he said something to trigger such an abrupt switch? He reached out and put a hand hesitantly on the small of Malik's back. "Malik, what's wrong?"

"You really should go now." Malik didn't turn around. He was fiddling with a key in the keyhole, trying to drag it out as long as he could. Under no circumstances did he want Bakura coming into his house with him.

Suddenly, Bakura's hands were around him, enveloping him in a hug. "I'm sorry," Bakura muttered.

Malik held his breath, the let it out slowly. "For what?"

"For whatever it is that I did that makes you act so... scared, so utterly freaked out around me."

"I'm not scared," Malik hissed, pushing Bakura away.

Bakura nodded, his reddish eyes boring into Malik's lavender ones. He raised a hand in front of him and backed away. "Ok." He turned and left, down the stairs to the bottom floor of the building.

Malik stared at his back as it disappeared from view, and stood there long after he'd gone. He leaned weakly against the door.

Damn. Why did he feel so guilty, for treating Bakura like that? He _knew_ the Tomb robber, dammit, and all Bakura cared about was himself! He refused to believe that Bakura could have changed like that! He shouldn't be able to relate to the tomb robber any more, not now that he himself had changed so much for the better!

The familiar, bitter guilt stuck in his throat again, and Malik closed his eyes, refusing to give in to it this time. He would _not_ become a miserable wreck every time he remembered Battle City!

Malik made a small sound, something between a sigh and a whimper. Isis always used to comfort him when he was unhappy.

Suddenly he wished that Isis were there, with her warm embrace and soothing voice. The old ache for home, for the familiar sights and sounds of the desert, the one he'd managed to suppress since he'd left Egypt, returned in full. He desperately attempted to push it away, to drown it out, but it stayed, anchored to his very soul.

He choked back a sob and pushed the door open. The laptop on his table drew his eyes, and he itched to type a message to his sister. At the last second, he restrained himself. He would not call for help like a dependant child. He would not prove Isis' fears true, but would survive on his own. He burst through his bedroom door and fell into his bed, burying his head under the thin pillow and willing the hot tears away. Ra, but he hated his life. Why did he always mess things up? WHY?

Later that afternoon found Malik in front of Tristan's house. He had looked up the address on the Internet, and had decided it was cheaper to walk than to call. He smiled brightly when Tristan opened the door, noting the immediate double take the other teen did when he saw who had knocked.

"Malik?" Tristan asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey," Malik said easily, "I came to ask you a favor."

"Sure. Do you want to come in?" Tristan offered, opening the door wider.


	8. Dates and Drinks

Wah, too long passed since last update…but here it is (finally). Thanks to all of you who reviewed, we'll post responses at the beginning of the next chappie.Enjoy!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Malik stepped into the slightly cluttered house, and Tristan closed the door behind him.

"So…" Tristan began, "would you like something to drink?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine," Malik said cheerfully. "But I do want to ask for a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Can I borrow your motorcycle? I promise I'll be careful with it!"

"Uh…" the request caught Tristan by surprise.

Malik, misunderstanding, continued quickly. "I promise I'll take great care of it! And I'll make sure you get it back by tomorrow-"

"Ok, it's fine," Tristan laughed. "I can't believe that you of all people would do anything to hurt a motorcycle. Lemme get the keys."

---

Ryou looked up from his cooking when he heard a knock at the door. Strange, he thought, Malik isn't supposed to arrive for another few hours, for the dinner Ryou had invited him over for. Wiping his hands on his apron, Ryou went to the door. Malik was standing there, grinning at him.

"You're only…a few hours early," Ryou said.

"No such thing as too early!" Malik said cheerfully, "now come on!"

"Come where?" Ryou protested, "I'm not done cooking!"

"Oh please, knowing you you're trying to cook a ten-course meal! I'm sure there's enough food! Let's go have some fun first!"

Protesting all the way, Ryou was forced to agree.

Ryou followed Malik apprehensively outside to the curb, where he'd left the motorcycle. He'd had taken the time to put on a warm sweater, because it was still cold out, and the breeze along the sea would probably be chilly. Malik had also thrown on a sweatshirt, a black one with a red Chinese dragon splashed across its front.

Malik swung his leg over the seat of the motorcycle, the casual movement betraying his experience with the machine, and invited Ryou to join him. Ryou was even more disturbed by this, not sure where to put his hands in order to hold on. Should he put his arms around Malik? His hormones immediately chorused an enthusiastic 'yes!'

He tried his very best to ignore them.

He finally settled for holding on the edge of the seat behind him. However, this didn't prevent him from being hyperaware of all the places his body was touching Malik's.

"Hang on," Malik said unnecessarily, as he turned on the machine and sped off.

It only took a few minutes to get to the main highway, during which Ryou learned that Malik was a rather dangerous driver. "Malik! Slow down!" he yelled, panicked, over the rush of wind.

Malik only laughed, and yelled back, "Isn't this great?"

After a particularly frightening turn, which left Malik laughing like a madman and Ryou nearly hysterical with terror, Ryou gave up on his principles and wrapped both arms as far as he could around Malik's middle. He hung on for dear life, muttering about speeding maniacs, and felt the vibrations of Malik's laughter through the cloth on his back.

Ryou clung helplessly to Malik, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. After a few minutes, when he'd gotten used to the speed and the wind that howled in his ears as they raced past, he slowly opened his eyes.

He suddenly noticed how close he was pressed against the Egyptian, and his heart began to beat irregularly fast again. Ryou found himself wishing that Malik were wearing one of his belly shirts instead of a thick sweatshirt, so that his hands would be clutching that tanned bare skin, those taut stomach muscles....

Ryou immediately tried to suppress these thoughts, feeling guilty. What would Malik think if he knew Ryou thought about his body that way? Malik would probably be disgusted, and hate him.

After an interminable period of time, they finally pulled to a stop in a nearly deserted parking lot at an equally empty stretch of beach. Ryou got off the motorcycle, feeling slightly giddy, and saw Malik mirroring his feeling with a smile that immediately pushed all thoughts of guilt out of his head.

"Wasn't that great?" Malik said cheerfully.

"Of course," Ryou answered, slightly dryly.

"Come on." Malik grasped his hand and pulled him to the sand, toward the shoreline. "Let's get closer to the water!"

"What's the point?" Ryou asked. "It's freezing anyway. What are we supposed to do here?"

"Don't be so negative! C'mon, I'll race you to that rock!"

"Hey!" Ryou cried, as Malik took off, immediately chasing him. "No fair, you got a head start!"

Malik looked back. He was laughing, and his hair blew wildly in the wind, and the glow of the sun on the horizon surrounded him... it was a beautiful picture that entranced Ryou.

"I'm winning!" Malik called out, recalling Ryou to the race.

With a burst of speed, Ryou caught up and tackled Malik to the ground, jumping clear quickly to try to continue on.

"Oh, no you don't!"

Malik grabbed Ryou's ankle, pulling him down again. They wrestled in the sand for a few minutes, managing to get sand in every available place, but by then, the cold no longer bothered them.

Finally, they both sat up, grinning at each other.

"You've got sand all over you," Malik said, brushing some off Ryou's shoulders.

"Oh, and you're in a much better state!" Ryou snorted, brushing sand out of Malik's hair.

They stood up and shook out their clothes. Malik looked around. "You know, we never did reach the rock."

"Oh no," Ryou said, "we are _not _racing again, I don't need to get any sandier!"

"Then we'll race in slow motion!"

"Uh...huh?!" Ryou asked, startled.

"Like this!" Malik grinned, and proceeded to pretend to run, moving with exaggerated, slow movements, mimicking a slow-motion scene from a movie. Ryou began to laugh at how silly the Egyptian looked, before trying to copy him. All in all, it took them a while to reach the rock (which was only about five feet away).

Warm after their "exertion", Ryou removed his sweater, tying it around his waist. Beside him, Malik reached for the corners of his sweatshirt, his arms crossed, and pulled it over his head. The tight black shirt he had on underneath rose a few inches, baring his flat stomach, and Ryou closed his eyes, determined not to get caught on that track again.

Malik likewise tied the sweatshirt around his waist, then grabbed Ryou's wrist again, dragging him closer to the water. "Come on, Ryou, let's do some cartwheels!"

"What?" Somehow, with the weird mood Malik seemed to be in, he couldn't follow the Egyptian's thought process at all.

"Come on, Ryou, wake up!" Malik laughed. He nudged Ryou in the direction of the water and took off. Mid-run, his hands touched ground and he did a neat cartwheel in the sand. "See? Go on! Betcha can't do one that good!"

Ryou stood indignantly with his hands on his hips. "Oh yeah? Watch this!" He took a running jump and flipped over, doing a sort of in-the-air cartwheel, without touching the ground.

Malik clapped. "Pretty good, Whitey. Now watch this." He lowered himself backward slowly in a backbend, and then flipped his legs over the top.

"Whitey?" Ryou asked. He did an arrow-straight handstand and then fell into a bridge.

They both collapsed onto the sand, laughing. "Blondie," Ryou gasped at the blonde Egyptian.

They sat in the sand, looking at each other quietly for a moment.

"The sun is setting," Malik finally said, looking away over the water.

"Yeah." Ryou followed his gaze. A quiet, almost solemn mood settled over them as they watched the sun sink slowly over the sea.

Feeling a sudden chill, Ryou pulled his sandy sweater back on. Malik stood up, his hair blowing in the cold wind.

"I guess it's time we started back," he said quietly.

"Yeah." Ryou remembered the dinner he'd made. He pushed snowy hair out of his face. "Let's go."

The ride home was far more subdued than the ride there had been. They both sat quietly, not talking, but the silence between them was comfortable.

When they parked again, Malik followed Ryou into the house. It was dark out now, and starts glittered in the clear sky.

After they had entered the house, Ryou began to heat the food. Malik lounged on the couch until Ryou called "Dinner's ready!" from the kitchen. He went in to help with the carrying.

"Mm, smells wonderful, Ryou." Malik took the handles of the small pot. "What is it?"

"That's spinach casserole." Ryou had crouched down to take the food out of the oven. He straightened up, holding another bowl. "These are potatoes with rosemary seasoning, and there's regular lettuce salad and something special for dessert."

"Sounds great!" Malik carried his bowl out of the kitchen.

They sat down around the table and dug in. Malik heaped his plate with the delicious food, complimenting a blushing Ryou with his mouth full.

Ryou tried to eat, but something was wrong. He noticed how his yami seemed bound and determined that nothing should enter his mouth. He struggled against the feeling – he was hungry for goodness sake! – but his yami kept on taking control of his body and stopping him from eating.

_Yami__, you did something to the food, didn't you?_ Ryou demanded, suddenly suspicious.

_How'd you guess?_ Bakura replied sarcastically. _Now be a good boy and let me out._

Ryou couldn't believe how angry he was with his yami. Was his yami jealous that he was finally spending time with somebody else for a change?

Oh God… Malik didn't even know about his yami! What would Malik think if his yami took over? Bakura would probably scare off the Egyptian, like he had done to so many others.

Malik looked up at Ryou, who had become strangely silent. He felt the sudden impulse to giggle. "Ryou, why are there two of you?" he wondered.

Ryou was jolted out of his mental battle, and looked at Malik in horror. "He spiked the food!" Ryou gasped, then stood up and hurried out of the room.

Malik stared after the white-headed teenager, slightly puzzled. The room began to fade out, and then suddenly came back sharper than before. Malik rubbed his eyes. "Ryou?" He called shakily.

In the hallway, Ryou leaned against a wall. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he struggled to keep his yami at bay. _Stay... inside!_ he gasped.

_Since when could you make me?_ his yami snarled back.

Suddenly, his yami retreated. Surprised, Ryou straightened and turned around. There was Malik in the doorway, a goofy smile on his face. He opened his mouth, and found himself shoved inside his soulroom. The door closed and the lock clicked shut.

Ryou banged helplessly against the door for a few minutes, before giving up. He leaned his back against it and slid down to the floor. He only hoped there would be something left of Malik, body and psyche, when Ryou's yami was finished with him.

Malik hung onto the doorpost as Ryou turned around. Then all of a sudden, it wasn't Ryou any more.

Bakura smiled ferally as he took over his hikari. It was too easy, really. Malik was frowning fuzzily at the change.

"'Lo, Bakura," he managed. He frowned. "You look like...."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "I look like who?"

"Like Frosty the Snowman!" Malik giggled.

Bakura facefaulted. "I don't even know what Frosty the Snowman looks like!"

Malik kept giggling. "But you sure look like him!" Malik's face suddenly lit up. Before Bakura could react, the blonde ran into the kitchen, and emerged a moment later with a carrot.

"What's that?" Bakura asked.

"A carrot! Snowmen always have carrots!" Malik said cheerfully, trying to stick the carrot up Bakura's nose.

"Ack!" Bakura raised both hands to defend his face, but Malik refused to give up. Finally, he managed to grab both of the Egyptian's wrists and pin them to his sides.

Malik stared at him, a slightly surprised look on his face, before bursting into hysterical giggles once more. Bakura groaned. He let go of the wrists carefully, when he saw that Malik had dropped the carrot.

"I know what you need!" Malik suddenly yelled, and ran off again.

Bakura threw dignity to the winds, and decided to escape while he could. He was beginning to think that getting Malik drunk had been a very bad idea. It had been next on his list of 'ways to seduce' Malik, but it didn't look as if it would work… he couldn't seduce Malik while the Egyptian was acting like a five-year-old!

He had nearly made it to the other door when Malik came tearing back, pounced on him and pinned him to the floor.

"See?" Malik said, grinning proudly while tying a scarf around Bakura's arms, pinning them to his sides so he couldn't move them. "Frosty needs a scarf!"

"I'm not Frosty the Snowman!" Bakura yelled. "Untie me, idi-mmg" he choked on the carrot that Malik had just shoved in his mouth.

He spit it out, and lay staring at the ceiling blankly, begging for any god that might be listening to get him out of the clutches of this loon, while Malik skipped around him in circles singing "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" at the top of his lungs in badly accented English. "I feel like a goddamn maypole…" Bakura muttered dryly.

Around two hours later, when Malik had finally dropped to the floor in exhaustion and just lay there, Bakura sat up. He'd spent the last hour loosening the scarf and managed to slip it off, freeing his arms. He sat for a few seconds, staring at Malik's prone figure. Malik's breathing was deep and even, and every thirty or so seconds he hiccupped in his sleep.

He crawled on his hands and knees over to the Egyptian and turned him over on his back. Malik didn't wake up. Bakura slipped his hands underneath Malik's body and lifted him in the air, then headed in the direction of Ryou's bedroom.

Laying the blonde down on the bed, Bakura considered his options. He didn't want to carry Malik home, that was just going too far... so the only thing left was to let him sleep in Ryou's house for the night. He looked at the Egyptian.

Should he leave Malik in those constricting clothes? He smiled an evil smile and reached for the corners of Malik's shirt.

Malik shifted, and his arm somehow managed to bash Bakura in the nose. "Ouch! Why you..." He stared down at the blonde, but Malik seemed to be fast asleep.

He wrestled with the Egyptian for another few minutes, as time and again Malik managed to land blind blows in tender places. Eventually, the shirt came off. He started working on the fly of Malik's black jeans.

He had to shove Malik's arms above his head and cover them with a heavy blanket to keep from being hit by the dangerously flying arms, but eventually he got the zipper undone. He slid the pants off and tossed them to the floor with the shirt. And grinned. Malik was wearing Winnie the Pooh boxers under those tight jeans – behold, the true Malik!

His finally allowed his eyes to rove over Malik's smooth dark skin, his flat stomach, the chest that rose and fell with his each breath, the sculptured features of his face. His fingers itched with the need to touch that beautiful face, to stroke that toned abdomen and run his fingers through that pale, silky hair...

He reached out a hand. That dark skin was even smoother to the touch than it looked; he ran a finger down his chest, but then snatched his hand away. What the heck was he doing? He couldn't touch Malik when he was like this, out cold after acting like the younger brother Bakura didn't want... It wasn't right. He couldn't carry out his original plan and molest a drunk Malik. He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

That was it. Bakura removed his own shirt but left on the pants. He lay down on the bed facing Malik. It wasn't that he was a good person or anything, he was just... traumatized. How could he forget his earlier experience? Being tied with a fucking scarf and being forced to hear "We wish you a merry Christmas" off-key was enough to traumatize _anyone_ for life. His molestation, or seduction, of the beautiful Egyptian would just have to wait for tomorrow night... right now, he was content with just staring at Malik lying beside him.

He fell asleep with those thoughts in mind, dreaming of sweet kisses beneath snow-filled overcast skies with strange scarf-like clouds that rained carrots.

* * *

Malik cracked his eyes open with a groan, closing them almost immediately when the sunlight hit them. "Ooooh...Ra," he groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. His head was killing him. 

What had happened to him? He sat up slowly, trying not to jar his head too much, when he suddenly noticed two things: his own slight lack of clothing, and the white-haired form sleeping beside him.

Bakura! He must have spiked the food! Now he understood why it had tasted a bit strange! He leaned over and shoved the thief off the bed. "BAKURA!!!" he snarled, despite the pain in his head, "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Bakura woke up as he made an abrupt acquaintance with the floor, trying to orient himself.

A pillow immediately hit him on the head, waking him up completely. He rolled out of the way quickly, in time to avoid the other pillow that Malik had thrown at him. "Malik...what are you-?" he began.

"Don't try to play it innocent!" Malik snarled. "You bastard! I'm going to kill you!" He picked up the desk lamp and threw it at Bakura's head.

Bakura managed to dodge the wild throw, and also the shoes that followed the lamp. "Malik, just calm down!" he yelled, trying to get through to the crazed Egyptian.

Malik didn't seem to hear him, and only chased him into the hall, throwing several hangers, two books, and Ryou's backpack at him.

For the second time in twenty four hours, Bakura decided to give up and flee, swearing to himself and every god he knew that he would NEVER get Malik drunk again.

Bakura ran into the living room, dodging the vacuum cleaner that narrowly missed his head. A moment later, he was wondering how the heck Malik had managed to pick up the sofa.

It hit him, too, and Bakura let out a string of curses as he struggled to get out from where it had pinned him to the floor. However, when Malik emerged from the kitchen with the meat cleaver and unmistakable bloodlust in his eyes, Bakura decided to panic. He shoved the sofa off him with strength he didn't know he had and fled, locking himself in the bathroom. Never again, he swore to himself, as he listened to the scrabbling on the other side of the door.

Finally, there was silence.

Bakura put his ear to the door, to make sure it wasn't a trap, before opening it silently. He tiptoed out, stopping abruptly when he saw Malik.

The Egyptian lay with his face to the floor, mumbling incoherently. Bakura could vaguely make out the words "kill bastard," "head hurts," and "need aspirin."

"I'll get you some aspirin if you promise not to attack me," Bakura said cautiously.

He took Malik's silence to mean consent and hurried away, returning with the aspirin moments later. He put the bottle a few feet away from Malik and quickly stepped back.

Malik raised his head, focusing bloodshot eyes on the pills, and inched forward pathetically on his stomach until he could reach them. "Water," he demanded harshly.

Bakura slid the cup across the floor to him. It sloshed on his head. He picked it up and drank, swallowing the pills, then sat up and glared at Bakura. "I am _so_ going to murder you, as soon as my head feels better."

"I swear I didn't touch you last night!" Bakura backed away under Malik's skeptical glower. "Well, maybe a little. You were violent enough, as it was, I'm not sure I had much of a choice," he said, recalling Malik's blind swings. He grinned at Malik's slightly aghast expression. Yes, let him think he'd been the one to force Bakura!

"Why, you no good..." Malik was tight-lipped with anger. He lunged at Bakura and tripped over one of the books he himself had thrown.

Bakura grabbed at him as he fell and managed to get both his hands behind his back. "You're leaving," he said. He shoved Malik back into the bedroom. "Get dressed and get out."

"You owe me breakfast!" Malik howled at the closed door. "It had better be something chocolaty!"

Bakura sighed as the front door slammed twenty minutes later, after Malik had gone. He stared contemplatively at the mess left in his hikari's house. Plan A had definitely turned out to be a total failure. Oh well... time to move on to Plan B!


	9. Distraction and Dinosaurs

Hey! For the first time in a long, long, long time, Seventhdaughter (me!!!!!) gets to do this review response thingy. Been looking forward to it forever, but Tramontana's a hogger, what can I say. And by the way- there are two of us! Yes there are. It seems to me that you all review (since you all review, of course) as if there were only one of us, but you be making big mistake! I writing this story too, so don't forgot me!

Now on with the review thing:

Ladywolf: I'm really glad you liked that last chapter! I did too. I never knew you could have so much fun writing fanfictions… usually I tend to go towards original fantasy stories, but messing around with Malik and Bakura and the rest of the gang sure is fun!

Calypso-the-SMG: grins back here ya go! 

OBSSESSED Uber Rei Model 07: message from Tramontana Keeper - if you wants to, you's welcome to continue 'opposition'! Aren't you lucky? Good luck! I think we missed New Year by just a bit… sorry bout that. All we can do is try better next time, neh? Plan B… here we come!

Kotori0-chan: we continue, we continue!

Lil-Riter: thanx muchy much for the tip on aerials. I'll remember that. I was in gymnastics, but learning the names to these things in a different language kinda…. limits.

Violet Dust: chapter 8 might have been funny, but they're getting darker each day. Do you think that's good, or should we try to keep them funny? Personally, I find it much easier to write the dark, depressing scenes – the funny stuff is mostly Tramontana's job.

chibichibimalik2: Bakura sees Malik as a special, almost untouchable mystery, and that's what attracts him so much. He only thinks he doesn't love Malik, so sometimes he treats Malik accordingly… and that's what Tramontana and I are trying to disprove… tee hee. So glad you like the story! What about this next chapter? Review like you did the last one and you'll make both of our days!

WolfBane2: cool review!

lilmatchgirl007: tee hee. I love it when Malik shows Bakura, don't you? He's my favorite character… he just has so much potential!

So sorry for the lateness of this update! We been so busy, our calendars just overflowed with stuff… now on with the story! And guyses, just wait for the next chappie… it's a personal favorite!

Here we go…

CHAPTER NINE

Yugi rested his chin on his elbows, gazing out of the classroom window. He seemed deep in thought. Around him, the class was noisy with the talk and play of break time, but he hardly noticed it. Inside, he was busy with his own concerns.

_Yami... I don't see why not._

_You will NOT invite Malik to the house tomorrow to study!_ Yami Yugi ground out.

_I need help with this material, and Malik's a good student! It makes perfect sense to ask him over. We can also help him catch up on the material he's missing because of the suspension. _An undercurrent of thought mentioned the idea of feeding him dinner too, and curiosity.

_He's strange. I don't understand his motives._

_What motives?_ Yugi innocently asked.

_MOTIVES,_ Yami answered with grim finality.

_Yami, what do you mean? _Yugi was definitely confused.

_I..._ Yami would never admit that he had no concrete ideas of what exactly he was worried about. _I just worry about you. You never know, you know!_

_And you do know…? _Yugi retorted. _You can't fool me, Yami_, he said fondly. _Now let's just invite the poor guy over and be done with it!_

_Fine, as long as you don't…_

_Don't what?_

_Don't… get too close to him._

Yugi blinked.

_Don't try that with me, I know you're not as innocent as you pretend. You and your friends all know how strangely he acts._

Yugi sat up a little straighter. _What do you mean by strange?_

_You know, the way he just seems to be all over your friends._

Yugi, however reluctantly, was forced to agree. He hadn't really wanted to realize the implications Malik's friendliness had. _Well, just because he's an awful flirt doesn't mean he's a bad person._

_So long as you watch yourself around him, be my guest and invite him_, Yami replied, sounding sulky.

Yugi stood and stretched himself, just as the bell to begin the next lesson rang. _Thanks. But it's not like he's given us any reason not to trust him._

Yami decided to refrain from mentioning Battle City.

Malik opened the door to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold can of beer. He made a face at the semi-empty fridge and slammed the door, taking the beer with him to his bedroom. His day had been long and exhausting, and boring. Mowing endless lawns in front of corporate buildings all across the city all day was awful work. He leaned against the wall and cradled the beer in his palms. His current problem was figuring out what to do about Ishimura Sensei – the goddamn teacher wasn't going to get off his case until Malik's parents called in, and that was quite impossible, due to the fact that they were both long dead. Staring beyond the fingerprint-smudged window, he watched the clouds float serenely by in a pale blue sky. It might be nice to be a cloud, he thought. All one had to do was float, go wherever the wind led, and occasionally rain down on the annoying people of the world – like Ishimura Sensei, for example. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. Breathe. Be ONE with the cloud!

The phone rang.

Malik gave up his short-lived aspirations to be a cloud and hurried to answer the phone.

"Yo," he said dejectedly into the receiver.

"Malik? Would you – is something wrong?"

"I'm a cloud."

"_What_?"

"I said I'm a cloud."

"Oh." Yugi paused. "That's nice. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"No, not really. Did you want something?"

Yugi suddenly remembered why he'd called. "Yeah… I wanted to invite you over my house for dinner, so that you could help me with some school work I was having trouble with. I figured I could help you fill in what you've missed too."

Malik's mood brightened immediately. "Wow, Yugi. That's really nice of you."

"So you'll come?"

"Sure. When do you want me?"

Yugi looked at his watch. "Uh, now's fine. As soon as you can get here."

"Great! See you soon." Malik hung up, then went to change out of his grass-stained clothes.

Isis returned home from the museum at her usual hour, to find Rishid's black Ford parked in front of their small duplex. She climbed the steps to the second floor quickly and when she tried the knob, the door opened easily.

Rishid stood up from the dining room table to greet her.

"Rishid! You're home! How was the filming trip?"

"We got a couple of good stories for the magazine, but I worked mostly on the scenery shots for the nature section. Got to see a whole lot of this country that I've never seen before." He grinned. "But I'm glad to be home. How's the museum going?"

Isis got them both a drink and sat down at the table. "It's going smoothly enough. We haven't gotten any new artifacts lately, but I'm supposed to go check out one of those digs in the south next week." She sipped at her drink, her eyes shifting slightly. "Rishid, have you heard anything from Malik?"

Rishid looked up from the papers spread out on the table in front of him, his expression grave. "So he hasn't contacted you either."

Isis bit her lip. "I'm worried about him. Who knows what could be happening to him? What kind of trouble he might be getting into? I knew I should have gone after him that day!" She rested her head on one hand as she remembered the day Malik had stormed out of the house, swearing that he was sick of them and would never come back.

"Do you really think that would have helped?" Rishid put down his own mug. "This is exactly why he left in the first place! He couldn't take the overprotectiveness."

"Overprotectiveness! I wasn't being overprotective! I was just making sure nothing happened!"

"You had to know where he was at every hour of the day, who he was with, what he was doing. I think that would start getting to anyone after a while."

Isis stood up angrily. "You weren't any better!" She stormed off toward the kitchenette. "Besides, you saw what kind of trouble he kept getting into! All those fights at school-"

"Everybody has fights at school here, Isis," Rishid interjected.

"Not the kind where one of the kids almost dies!" Isis snapped.

"Well, the other kid pulled a knife on him first. That fight wasn't Malik's fault, he was just defending himself."

"But he'd clearly provoked the other boy into attacking him. That's what scares me the most." She sighed. "Malik has a fiery tongue. It's gotten him into trouble before, and it'll get him into trouble again. He seems entirely too happy when he manages to cause those fights of his."

Rishid placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be all right. Anyone who can handle a criminal organization for as long a period of time as he did can handle his own life for a while."

"It's his criminal-organization skills that worry me."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the silence. Then Rishid opened his mouth, but Isis cut him off. "Well, what about all those times when you acted just as protective as I did? You used to check every night to make sure he was still in bed, and go through his computer history-"

"At least I didn't panic every time he was six minutes late coming home from school!"

Isis started to retort and then made a visible effort to control herself. "Arguing about who did what is not going to fix the problem."

Rishid said, "I think we should try to find him. We don't have to contact him or anything, but we should know where he is in case anything happens."

"Where do you think he could have gone? And why shouldn't we try to contact him?"

"Because obviously, if he hasn't contacted us yet, he probably wants to be alone."

"Even if he's still angry at us and doesn't want to talk to us, we should still let him know that we care!" There was a tremor in her voice. "It might make him want to come home."

Rishid chose not to respond that, for fear of saying something that might upset Isis. "I'll go call some of my contacts, and see if they can do anything to help us."

He headed out of the room, but turned around in the doorway. "Isis, where do you think he could have gone? Where would it be most natural for him to run to?"

Isis had a contemplative look on her face. "Maybe… Japan."

"Japan?" Rishid asked. "Why Japan?"

"Well…" Isis bit her lip again. "Remember in Battle City? Those kids were all from Japan… someplace called Domino City, I believe."

"Right." Rishid turned around again. "I'll see what I can do."

Malik stepped into the game shop. All around him were Duel Monster cards, more cards than he had seen in quite a while. Memories suddenly flooded his mind, and his head started aching with the effort of suppressing them. He remembered his own deck, tied together with a rubber band and stuck in the back of his closet. How long had it been since he'd last looked at it? He looked at the shelves, remembering the time when this game had practically been his whole world.

"Hello, you must be Malik!" The cheerful voice of Yugi's grandfather startled him out of his reverie. He snatched his hand away from the cards on the shelf.

"Yugi's been waiting for you, go on up," Sugoroku added, forestalling any response from Malik. The Egyptian nodded, and climbed the steps that led to the second floor of the game shop.

Yugi did seem happy to see him. "Hey! Thank you so much for coming." The diminutive duelist dragged Malik into the room, before starting to busily pull books and notebooks off shelves. "I'm really struggling with these English phrases Kanato Sensei gave us for homework. And this math's no joke either."

"I'll do my best," Malik said.

They plodded their way through the schoolwork, until they got sick of it.

"Geez, I'm starting to see English letters floating in front of my face" Yugi pushed the books away. Malik just sighed and put his head on his arms.

"Is something wrong?" Yugi wondered.

"Nah," Malik muttered.

Yugi poked him. "Really?"

"Stop that."

Yugi poked him again. And again.

"Quit it!" Malik glared at Yugi. At the angry expression on Malik's face, Yami took over and glared right back.

"Don't talk to my hikari like that!"

"Shut up, Pharaoh! Who asked _you_?"

_Yami, please stop fighting with him! You know that he doesn't like you! _Yugi begged.

With almost visible effort, Yami swallowed the retort and sat down. Taking a closer look at Malik's face, he noticed the same thing Yugi had. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Malik looked surprised at the tone. "I'm sick of mowing lawns," he finally answered. "And the only way to get out of it is if my parents call in or something. Which won't be happening in the near future."

"Can't your sister go instead?"

"No," was the flat, final response.

Silence reigned supreme for several minutes, disturbed only by occasional chirping of little blue birds from outside the window. And honking of cars. And chattering of squirrels. And mooing of cows. And-

"I have an idea!" Yugi suddenly cried.

"What?" Malik asked, sounding very, very coughcough interested.

"My Yami can call the school and pretend to be your dad. He'll give some excuse why your parents can't come to school, and get you back _into_ school!"

Malik's eyes brightened slightly. "Sounds like it might work," he said. "But… is your Yami going to agree to this?"

A troubled look crossed Yugi's face, one that Malik associated with an internal conversation. "Hold on, I'll try to convince him."

_Yami?_

_No, no, no, no and NO. _

_Why noooooot?_

_It'll never work!_

_Actually, I think it will. It's not like the teacher knows what Malik's father would sound like! And you sound old-_

_I _don't_ sound like a geezer!_ Yami protested.

_You sound older than me_, Yugi placated him. _If you don't agree, I'll give you the puppy dog eyes until you do! _

_I'll never give in! _

_I'll get _Malik_ to give you puppy dog eyes!_

There was a moment of silence.

_I don't want to see that. I really don't._

_Me neither._

_What a disturbing thought._

_True._ They both shuddered.

"Uh…Yugi?" Malik's voice broke them out of the train of thought.

"What?" Yugi blinked, "Oh! Right! Yeah, he agrees."

_I did?_

_Shhhhh_

"I don't have his phone number, though," Malik said.

"We can call the school and ask," Yugi suggested.

They got the number, and Yugi immediately began dialing. Malik crossed his fingers.

"Hello?" Ishimura answered the phone after the second and a half ring.

"Hello," Yami nearly stammered, "I'm Atemu Ishtar, Malik Ishtar's father." He pretended not to notice Malik, who was pretending to throw up. "I understand that my…_rather wayward son_," he dodged Malik, who tried to hit him over the head, "has been causing problems at school?"

"He brought a ten-foot python into class." Only after he said it, did Ishimura realize how ridiculous that sounded.

"Uh…hem. Right. Ah…." Yami tried to come up with a suitable response. Malik was hitting himself on the head repeatedly, which wasn't helping.

_It's a pet!_ Yugi suggested.

"That's Binky!" Yami said decisively. "He's our pet grass snake! He wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"You expect me to believe that _thing_ was a grass snake?!" Ishimura demanded furiously.

"I," Yami said imperiously, "am a trained ornithologist! Do you presume to tell me what I do or do not know in MY area of expertise?!"

Malik stared at him in dread, mouthing "Idiot! Idiot!" and waving his arms.

"Oh, no sir!" Ishimura said quickly. "If you say that everything is fine, I take your word for it! I simply wanted to make sure there was no danger-"

"Rest assured I will not let Malik bring any dangerous creatures to school," Yami said archly. "I presume that he may return to school now? Education for the younger generation is a very important thing, and with wonderful teachers like yourself I'm sure he has much to learn."

"Of course, of course," Ishimura preened. "Your son is an exceptionally bright student! I'm sure we will manage fine the rest of the year. I am so glad to have made your acquaintance! I-"

"Yes, thank you, thank you. I'm afraid I must go now," Yami said hurriedly, and hung up.

_Yami….I can't believe you pulled that off…_

"I don't know who's the bigger idiot. Ornithologists are _bird_ specialists, you mummy!" Malik said flatly.

"I knew that!" Yami said quickly. "It was the best I could come up with on such short notice." He crossed his arms. "You ingrate. It worked didn't it?"

Malik shook his head, and muttered about stupid pharaohs with their stupid blind luck.

_That teacher really is stupid_, Yugi commented. _You know what? I don't even feel guilty about lying to him._

Malik stood as if he were ready to leave. He turned to Yami and said with difficulty, "Thanks, Phar-" he stopped, not knowing what to call the other any more.

"It's fine." Yami attempted a small smile. "Anything for a friend."

Yugi took control and smiled widely. "Glad we could help."

Malik, relaxing slightly, stood over him and ruffled his unruly star of hair. "Thanks a bunch. Because of you I can say goodbye to that stupid lawnmower. Maybe I can use it to break Ishimura's windows with…" He grinned. "Well, see ya tomorrow at school!"

"Thank you for helping me with my homework!"

"You're welcome!" Malik yelled back up the stairs before he headed for home.

Wednesday at school went well. Thankfully, nothing strange appeared, and he even managed to avoid getting into trouble with old Mrs. Shimojima, who had this thing against students.

He stuffed his books into his bag at the end of the day and made a beeline for the door. The list of homework he had, from today and from all the days he'd missed was longer than the ten-ft python, now commonly known as Binky. He wondered how long it would take him to complete it all…

He hurried home and sat on his bed, trying to prioritize the work (and trying to convince himself that the biggest priority was _not_ sleeping). The math problems were for Sunday, the Social Studies questions for tomorrow… there was a knock at the door.

He stretched and went to open it, snagging a half-empty can of ginger ale from the table on his way. He opened the door to meet a very familiar annoyance.

He finished the ginger ale and tried to close the door.

"Wait." Bakura stuck his foot in the crack. "Just hear me out."


	10. Kisses and Creampuffs

Yipee! It's an update! And it's finally chapter 10!

**DojomistressAmbyChan**: Heh, poor Baku…but that's about to change now! A little. Sorta.

**Akuryounoseiki**: Hey, I agree with the OOCness bit. But if we want to have Bakura as a normal char, he's got to be ooc. Ryou doesn't appear in the show enough to have much of a character at all, and post-Battle-City Malik doesn't appear either. So we don't actually know what their personalities would be like, do we? And there's gotta be SOME oocness, otherwise the level of humor would drop drastically. But we're really doing our best to make them realistic…

**Chibichibimalik2**: I'm glad you like it! You're one of our most consistent reviewers!

**Wolfbane2**: Wait and see, this story is still going places. No pairings are set in stone yet. Muahahahaaaaa.

**OBSESSED Uber Rei**: Noooooo, don't have a heart attack! Don't do it, you have so much to live for! Don't worry, we're continuing, see?

**LadywolfTerri**: Heh, we have plans for Binky. We even had an idea for a lemon with Binky, but I don't think we'll post that….(sweatdrop)

**A lilmatchgirl**: I hope we don't disappoint!

And huge, enormous thanks to: **Inuhanyou****-fire-sit**, **Blueeyesbakura**, **trekkie-54**, **Marina-Kashu**, and anybody else reading this story!

Oh, btw, SeventhDaughter (who's coauthoring this story) now has a story of her own, also a M/B, M/R, go make her happy and check it out if you have time!

**CHAPTER TEN**

There was a knock at the door. Malik stretched cat-like, and went to open it, snagging a half-empty can of ginger ale from the table on his way. He opened the door to meet a very familiar white-haired annoyance.

Gulping down the last drops of ginger ale, he tried to close the door.

"Wait." Bakura stuck his foot in the crack. "Just hear me out."

Malik rolled his eyes and leaned his head against the doorframe. "Let me guess. You've come to declare your undying love for me, and tell me that you can't live without me and you want to get married and have children and-"

"I get the point," Bakura said dryly. "And actually, I wasn't going to say that."

"Yeah, right," Malik scoffed "You sure were!"

"No, I wasn't! Children! Me!"

"So you admit to all the rest!" Malik crowed.

"No, I don't!" Bakura practically yelled.

"Then why are you blushing?"

Bakura turned red. "I AM NOT BLUSHING!"

"Really." Malik smirked at him. "Would you like to look in a mirror? I must say, you're quite cute when you blush! I never would have thought that the great tomb robber-"

"Shut up!" Bakura fisted his hands in Malik's collar, glaring claymores at him.

(A/N: Claymores: they're these huge Scottish swords. They were blunt, and the Scots used them to break the enemy's collarbones, and then the little kiddies would come onto the battlefields to finish off the enemies, who obviously couldn't fight back anymore – as a sort of training.)

Malik's grin was feral, and his eyes shone with the daredevilry Bakura loved so much. "As if you could make me shut u-"

Bakura pushed him up against the door and kissed him.

The sensation was incredible. Malik had been involved in a bit of kissing in his day, but nothing so full of feeling as this, nothing so intense. Bakura showed the aptitude of a long-time experienced kisser, and Malik was getting a firsthand show of Bakura's incredible technique.

The pale Egyptian kissed him softly at first, nibbling and licking until he forced Malik's lips to part. Then the kiss grew fierce as he shoved his tongue inside, mapping the contours of Malik's mouth, swirling his tongue around Malik's possessively. Malik's eyes closed; he was lost within a whirlwind of feeling. He swallowed a breathy moan and began to retaliate, giving Bakura what he wanted and fighting for his own ground. His hands crept up to encircle the tomb robber's neck as he pulled the other closer. Bakura's hands ran up and down his torso, his fingers caressing the narrow form beneath his questing hands, before finally settling around his narrow waist.

They broke off the kiss minutes later, though it seemed like ages to both of them. Panting, Bakura stared at Malik, victory glinting in his eyes. Malik stared back, an almost frightened look on his face, before abruptly shoving Bakura away. "What the fuck was that?" he growled, unable to keep the desperate note from his voice.

"You can't deny it. You felt exactly what I did in that kiss." Bakura took a few steps toward the blonde, but Malik backed further into the apartment. "Admit it – you're as attracted to me as I am to you."

"The hell I will." Malik slammed his fist on the wall. "Get out."

"Malik." Bakura's voice was strained as he stood his ground. "Will you listen to me for a second?"

Malik glared at him, opening his mouth, but Bakura beat him to it.

"I want you to be my boyfriend."

"What!"

"I thought I was being clear," Bakura retorted. "I said I want you to be my boyfriend."

Malik shook his head wildly. "As if. Forget it."

"That's it!" Bakura said, fighting a sinking feeling in his stomach that was suspiciously reminiscent of disappointment. This had only been a spur-of-the-moment action, and he hadn't really expected Malik to answer the affirmative. So why was his reaction so strong?

Why had Malik refused, for that matter? "Why?"

Malik's eyes refused to meet his. "I don't want a boyfriend."

"So you want a girlfriend?"

"No!" Malik snapped. "I don't want an anything-friend, be it boy, girl, or dancing iguana!"

"Why not?" Bakura insisted. He wasn't going to back down now.

"Actually, come to think of it, a dancing iguana sounds good."

"Really funny." Bakura did not sound particularly amused. "I can't believe I'm losing to a reptile."

"No, it's because I don't want to be part of another meaningless relationship consisting of nothing but sex!"

So that was what was bothering Malik. "What makes you think I want a meaningless relationship?" Bakura asked quietly.

"W-what?" Malik suddenly lost his anger, and stared at the once-tomb robber in surprise.

"I… care... about you," Bakura stumbled over the phrase slightly. Sort of. So he wasn't exactly being truthful…too bad.

Malik immediately regained his fire. Bakura's half-hearted confession hadn't seemed overly convincing. "You think I'll believe that!"

"So that's your problem!" Bakura's own eyes filled with scarlet fire. "You think that just because you knew me during Battle City doesn't mean that I couldn't have changed?"

"You?" Malik snorted.

Crimson eyes flashed. "So you can suddenly change, and get accepted, but that's a luxury denied to ol' Bakura, isn't it? Don't you think that's horribly selfish of you? All I want is one chance to prove to you that I care, but you won't even give me that!"

Funny, with all this talk, Bakura was near to convincing even himself that he was in love with the blonde!

Malik bit off his angry retort and looked away. "That's not what I meant," he said shakily.

"Just give me a chance," Bakura insisted, stepping closer.

Malik couldn't bear to meet Bakura's eyes. After everything he'd done, Bakura actually wanted to be his boyfriend? Bakura... cared about him? Hadn't he just accused Malik of being a selfish bastard? And yet, there was definitely something attracting about the wild abandon that seemed to dictate Bakura's every action, an attraction he'd clearly felt during Battle City that only strengthened with each friction-filled meeting. Bakura was suave, domineering, and sexy in his own way… he was _Bakura_.

"I'll be your boyfriend," he said softly.

Because Malik's eyes were on the floor, he missed the triumphant grin that flashed across Bakura's face. The tomb robber gently encircled the Egyptian in his arms, an internal voice chanting 'mine Mine MINE!' inside his head. Of course, now he could afford to be gentle... Malik was HIS.

Malik was stiff in his embrace, tightly wound like a spring. He relaxed slowly as Bakura reflexively stroked his back. "Thanks," Bakura said seriously.

Malik finally looked up, and into Bakura's red, red eyes. The earlier fire had banked to a soft, shimmering glow. He felt strange. How could Bakura be his boyfriend, just like that? But maybe, just maybe this would turn out well. He hoped it would.

* * *

Thursday dawned bright, but cold. Malik hurried into class at his usual three minutes after the bell, wearing a black leather jacket buttoned up to his chin. He ignored the whispers and murmurs that followed him to his desk and swung his backpack off his back. He started to pull it open, when he noticed the intense gazes of about everyone in the classroom. Apparently, they hadn't forgotten about Binky the python yet. Malik stared flatly at them, before decisively pulling it open and sticking one hand in.

He jerked his hand out of the bag violently and let out a startled yell. The class flinched back, nearly falling over each other to get away from whatever horror was waiting to leap at them. Before the scramble could become a mad dash, Malik's derisive laughter echoed around the classroom. "Hahaha... you should've seen your faces! You guys are so... hee hee... gullible!"

Muttered growls of "What an _idio_t!" and such followed this statement. Those were the only reactions available to the class, as the teacher had just walked in. Malik sat on his chair, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Ishimoto Sensei quieted the whispers and set the class working right away on the capitols of several European countries. He began to read about Berlin, the capitol of Germany, from a printed sheet in his hands. "…The Berlin Wall separating East Berlin from West Berlin was finally breached in the year…."

Malik tuned out.

He focused instead on Ishimoto Sensei's stubby hands, the way they moved over the paper as he read. From there, his eyes traveled down the teacher's short arms, to his stiff tweed jacket. Ishimoto Sensei, upon finishing the page, lowered one hand to reach into his briefcase...

Abruptly, there was a whoosh of displaced air, and an immense dinosaur, which Malik recognized as a Tyrannosaurus Rex appeared in the classroom. Its huge legs smashed through the desk and floor, while its head shattered the ceiling. Screams erupted throughout the classroom, as students shoved away from their desks in a panic. The Tyrannosaurus gave a furious cry, before leaning forward and gobbling up the nearest student in one swift movement. Ishimoto Sensei was ignored, having managed to hide behind the enraged monster, who was going on a rampage, continuing the destruction to the ceiling and floor. Crashes of misplaced masonry mingled with the cries of fleeing students.

Malik stood frozen where he had jumped up, staring at the magnificent monster. It turned its yellow eyes on him, and he suddenly laughed. "Go eat Ishimura!" he yelled gleefully.

The monster made a movement resembling a nod, before turning towards the hallway, to search out the diabolical teacher.

The students were now fleeing in droves, from the destruction as well as the dinosaur, as-

"Ishtar, will you please pay _attention_!"

Malik was abruptly recalled to dour reality. He quickly nodded and stared back down at his book, a sigh escaping him as he returned his attention to the boring class.

* * *

Malik stood in line in the cafeteria after what seemed like a never-ending lesson, waiting for his turn to grab a tray with whatever crap they were being served that day.

Yugi noticed Tea's eyes on the blonde Egyptian. Something up?" he asked her.

"I was just wondering..." she stopped mid sentence, her fork never reaching her mouth.

"Wondering what?" Otogi asked, sitting on her right.

"That jacket Malik was wearing this morning... how could you afford it?" she directed the last part of her statement at the person in question.

The others flinched at the question, and made various frantic movements at her that mostly meant 'shut up, idiot!'

Malik rested his tray on the table carefully. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice suddenly guarded.

Tea blinked, suddenly aware of her mistake. "Oh," she said quickly, "I just meant that it looks like an awfully expensive jacket, that's all! Nothing about _you_."

Malik seemed mollified by her answer. "I've had this coat for a while now," he explained.

"It's a cool jacket," Tristan said enviously. "Wish I could afford something like that."

Joey opened his mouth, about to blurt some comment or other, then apparently thought better of it because he took a bite of the yellow mush on his tray instead.

Malik likewise poked at his food. "I wouldn't be surprised if there's some weird creature living inside this glop," he muttered, getting several appreciative laughs.

Several periods passed, so boring as to leave the students wishing another random animal would appear, just to break the monotony – even if it were another python.

Gym class _was _a break in the monotony, but they weren't looking forward to it. The teacher had started teaching them to play football, and the general opinion of the class was that it was the stupidest game on the planet.

"Great," Ryou said to Malik, dragging his feet, "now I'll get more bruises. I think Sensei has them all tackle me on purpose."

"I sympathize deeply," Malik intoned.

"Oh shut up," Ryou shoved him playfully. "You haven't been to the last few classes. Actually, you seem to be absent from Gym fairly often. Can it be that model student Malik actually cuts class?"

"Me?" Malik asked innocently, "of _course _not."

The girls and boys separated into different groups for different activities. The boys got stuck with football, as predicted. The game they played was long and hard, and even though nobody seemed too interested in it, they still managed to get an exhausting workout (and lots of bruises).

They plodded back to the locker rooms, groaning and generally exaggerating their tiredness, while the teacher shook his head at them.

"I don't like gym..." Yugi complained, for the 54th time that day.

"Does anyone?" Kaiba muttered as he headed for a secluded shower in the corner of the room.

"Yeah!" Joey said immediately. "I like it."

Everybody stared at him.

"Well, maybe only a little bit..."

Malik lurched over to them, a look of misery on his face.

"You look cheerful," Tristan commented.

"I'm exhausted," Malik groaned.

"Hey, wanna come with us to a pizza-and-arcade afternoon today?" Joey suddenly said. "That should cheer you up!"

Malik looked thoughtful. He mentally evaluated his schedule, then a big smile broke out across his face. "Sure!" he said. "Sounds great."

"Be there at 4:30," Joey added, glad to have made Malik happy.

* * *

"All right, Yugi! Fourteenth win in a row! One more and it's game over!"

The gang crowded around Yugi and Otogi as they fought the last battle of the day.

"I don't know why any of you bother playing against Yugi any more," Malik shook his head, "he always wins anyway!"

"That's not true!" Yugi protested, "I lost at...at...um..."

Everybody laughed.

"S'ok Yugi," Joey patted him on the back, "we don't mind."

"We love you anyway," said Malik mock-comfortingly.

"I'm hungry," Tristan commented. His stomach chose that exact moment to back him up.

"Wow, somebody said he's hungry before Joey? That's a first!" Anzu laughed.

"Hey!"

They all went to a table to have some more of their staple food – pizza.

Around a mouthful, Ryou suddenly turned to Malik. "Hey, Malik, what was it like in Egypt?"

Malik swallowed, looking uncertain.

"C'mon, you've been living there lately with Rishid and Isis!" Yugi tried to hint they meant the time _after_ Battle City.

Malik seemed to get it, because he cheered up.

"Well, I lived in a standard neighborhood. I went to public school. I had a neighbor called Maurice, who had a dovecote in his backyard."

"A _dovecote_?" Tristan asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Malik answered. "And I had another neighbor called Sara, who had lots of kids. I mean _lots_ – she had something around 15 or so. So anyway, Sara used to hang her laundry out to dry every day (and she really had a lot of it). And Maurice's doves used to fly around all day, and crap all over Sara's laundry."

"Fifteen kids?" Anzu was stunned.

"Ouch, poor laundry," was Ryou's comment.

"Listen!" Malik was warming to his story. "So Sara got mad, and told him that his doves crapped on her laundry, she was going to crap up his life. Maurice got mad, and threw all her laundry in the mud and jumped on it."

There was a collective wince.

"So Sara went and called her uncle, who owned a factory with 150 workers, and they all came and beat up Maurice and trashed his house."

Another collective wince.

"Maurice went and called all his friends and extended family over, from everywhere between Morocco and Israel. They brought knives, and chunks of wood, and pieces of iron, and machetes and rocks, and started throwing them at each other. So they called in the police, and the Civil Guard, and the Coast Guard, and the army-"

"Give me a break!" Joey exclaimed. "All that over a bunch of stupid doves?"

Malik sighed. "I know. And they say that doves bring peace." He shook his head.

"There's no way that really happened!" Otogi protested.

Malik shrugged. "You got me, I exaggerated. They _didn't_ call in the Coast Guard. But everything else is true!"

The others all blinked at each other for a few minutes.

"That's one weird place you come from," Anzu finally said.

"People take feuds very seriously, that's all."

Malik looked at his pizza contemplatively. "That riot trampled Isis' flowerbeds. She was soooo mad."

"Well, what about you?" Ryou said. "So you had crazy neighbors. Now tell us something about yourself."

"Um...I didn't do much of anything interesting. I hung out with people after school and on holidays. I cut class. I blew off homework. I got into fights at school. I had a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend!" They practically yelled in unison.

"She cheated on me," Malik said in a flat tone. "Other than that, she was a nice girl. Cute." Malik suddenly grinned, preventing awkwardness. "But none of my friends there were as nice as you guys!" He put an arm around Otogi, who was sitting next to him, and put his head against his shoulder.

Otogi flinched, but if Malik noticed, he didn't show it. He was too caught up in being happy and no one wanted to burst his bubble.

* * *

Malik flopped onto his 'bed', in a strange sad-happy mood. Egypt hadn't been that bad; he'd had good friends, had enjoyed fun times. And his girlfriend _had_ come and told him she was cheating on him, so they'd parted on okay terms…well, at least as ok as terms can be when you find out your girlfriend cheated on you. It hardly hurt anymore. Tired, but not nearly enough to fall asleep, Malik counting cracks on the ceiling of his room.

He'd counted some thirty cracks before realizing that the annoying beep was coming from the 'living room'. Getting up with a groan, he went to investigate.

The beeping came from his laptop. He sat down at the table and turned it to face him. It was a message from Ryou on MSN Messenger. Malik clicked on it. Strange, he'd never contacted Ryou before...

The message was short. _malik_

He splayed his hands across the keyboard and leaned back with a sigh. _Yeah?_ he replied.

_it's__ bakura _the person on the other end typed back.

He got over his initial surprise rather quickly and typed_, wow, you know how to use a computer? i thought you lived in the stone age!_

_very__ funny. im an up-to-date stone-age drop out. _There was a pause_. lets meet to celebrate_

Malik: _now?_

Bakura: _come on. lets go out for a drink or something. you havent seen me all day_

Malik: _oh poor me_

Bakura: _meet me at the 7/11 on the corner of tonkatsu street and ill buy you a coke or something_

Malik: _a COKE?_

Bakura: _you want something else?_

Malik: _YES! i want alcohol, not a sissy coke_

Bakura: _hardy har. after what happened last time you got drunk, you think ill buy you alcohol!_

Malik: _stinkaroo_

Bakura: _so anyway, just meet me there _

Bakura: _bye now_

Malik glanced at the time again. It was a quarter after ten; by the time he'd reach the meeting place it would be a quarter to eleven, and then who knew how long Bakura would want to hang out with him? He sighed again and reached for the leather jacket.

As a last minute preparation, he added the chain to his jeans. He grinned to himself as he locked the apartment door. Bakura was his boyfriend, right? Why shouldn't he want to prove to Bakura see what a sexy bastard he'd landed for a partner!

* * *

Bakura was leaning against a telephone pole outside the 7/11. He looked dangerous, even in as relaxed pose as the one he was lounging in. Malik decided it was something to do with the predatory-ness that seemed to hang around the white-haired former tomb-robber.

He straightened as Malik came closer and slung a protective arm around Malik's shoulders. "Thanks for coming." He pulled Malik toward the store.

"I still want alcohol..." Malik muttered sulkily.

"Like I said, forget it buster. I'm onto you already. You can drink your coke and be happy about it."

"You're no fun... I finally got away from meddling older siblings, and now you come along," Malik groused.

Politely ignoring Malik's last comment, Bakura said, "I'm surprised you didn't want to go to a dance club." They entered the 7/11, Bakura settling down with his drinks, Malik pouting over his coke.

Malik seemed almost embarrassed. Bakura had to keep from grinning at the slight blush that colored Malik's cheeks. "I can't dance," the blonde confessed.

"Really?" Bakura said, startled. "I was sure that you -" he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Could dance like a harem girl?" Malik made a derisive sound. "If you can call what goes on there 'dancing'. Mostly it's just an excuse for people to show as much skin as possible and grind against each other."

Bakura looked thoughtful. "I'll just have to teach you someday," he said. "I'm a pretty good dancer myself."

"See? You're also looking for an excuse." He reached for one of Bakura's half-finished drinks, only to have his hand slapped away sharply by the alert tomb robber. "Ass!" Malik stuck out his tongue. "Come on, I want some!"

"No. You're an awful drunk, Malik." He grinned sloppily. "Honestly, Malik, with the way you're so prickly sometimes, it's like you've got PMS!"

So it wasn't a very smart subject to change to. Oh well, it was the thought that counted.

Malik glared at him, practically glowing with an evil aura. "You liken me to a girl?" he said softly.

"Um... I was kidding," Bakura said too quickly.

"Why you no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing Tombrobber!" Then he smiled sweetly. "Just kidding."

"Clumsy ass!"

"Idiotic numbskull!" 

"Dufotic twit!"

"Dufotic? That's not a word!" Malik protested. The nerve of that cheater!

"You have idiot-idiotic, so you have dufus-dufotic," was Bakura's reasonable explanation.

Malik shook his head. "I can't reason against that one..." he muttered.

Bakura punched Malik in the shoulder, but his punch was a little off. "See? My wit goes unchallenged!"

"Cottleson cottleson cottleson pie," giggled Malik, the sugar and caffeine giving him a pleasant rush.

"Wha?" Bakura said.

"Ask me a riddle and I reply/ Cottleson cottleson cottleson pie," Malik elaborated.

"I didn't ask you a riddle," said a puzzled Bakura.

"No silly, that's how the song goes!" 

"What song?"

"Cottleson Pie!" Malik seemed very pleased. "Cottleson cottleson cottleson pie/ why does a fish, I don't know why/ ask me a riddle and I reply/ Cottleson cottleson cottleson pie."

"Lovely song," Bakura said, not quite sure what it was about. He shook his head at Malik, but decided that was a very bad idea when the room began to swirl even after he'd stilled his head. He reached for a beer bottle, found it unexpectedly empty, as were two of the three others that surrounded him, and wondered where all the beer had gone. He was too stoned to look to Malik as the culprit. "Malik," he slurred, "let's go home now. I really think I've had enough."

Malik nodded, and unhurriedly started getting up.

The slowly made their way back to Ryou's house, because it was closer. Malik poked Bakura, laughing.

"Geez, Bakura, you're all over the place, I bet you couldn't walk a straight line if your life depended on it!"

Bakura, despite his drunkeness, managed to avoid colliding with anything, while Malik was less fortunate. Only slightly tipsy, he laughed hard every time Bakura slurred or tripped. At some point, he was laughing so hard that he didn't see the stop sign on the corner of Ryou's street in front of him and walked straight into it. Now it was Bakura's turn to crack up, which got him chased by a murderous Malik the rest of the way back to Ryou's house.

Bakura let them in using a key he dug out of some deep pocket. They fell onto the couch in the living room, laughing like idiots.

"We should do that again," Malik chuckled gleefully. "I had fu-u-un."

"Malik." The blonde turned his head in Bakura's direction, not noticing that the thief's tone had suddenly become more serious. Bakura leaned over and trailed a hand down Malik's tanned petal-smooth cheek.

Malik blinked at him.

In a sudden rush of hormones and uncontrollable passion, Bakura pressed his lips to Malik's.

Electricity shot between them. Bakura nibbled at Malik's lower lip, one hand coming around to cup the back of Malik's head. The Egyptian moaned into the kiss, his eyes closed. Bakura, encouraged, coaxed Malik's lips to part. The faint trace of alcohol on Malik's breath added to his natural sweetness, and Bakura finally realized where the ends of his bottles had gone. He tried to get annoyed, but realized that this new tidbit only serving to intoxicate him further.

Bakura was panting when he finally drew back.

He stared at Malik. Malik stared back. Then he stood up. "Come on, creampuff, let's get into bed." He began to half carry, half drag Malik in the direction of Ryou's room.

"Creampuff?" Malik took a wild swing at Bakura's head. He missed and almost launched himself out of Bakura's arms and into the hallway wall.

"Watch it, dummy. Let's try to get to the bed without killing ourselves."

"Creampuff," Malik muttered angrily.

They collapsed onto the sheets, fully dressed. Bakura kicked off his shoes, then lay back and pulled Malik close. Malik struggled weakly against Bakura's hold, pushing at his chest, but soon gave up. His common sense must have deserted him somewhere along the way home, he decided, and snuggled closer to Bakura's warmth.

"Good night, creampuff," Bakura muttered softly into Malik's hair. The blonde was already sleeping, a serene smile on his face. Bakura sighed contentedly and allowed himself to drift off.


	11. Messes and Misconceptions

We liiiiiiive! And here's chapter 11! Sorry it's a little shorter, but it definitely has a lot happening. Please pay special attention, this is a very important chapter, yep yep! And we officially passed 100 reviews! We love you guys! Do you want something? A fanart of Malik and Ryou and Binky or something?

Ding Day Partay- uh…what original characters? I don't remember there being any oc's in this story…except for some of the teachers…wah, maybe I'm getting senile.

Tsuki-Neko-Chan- American football. We call British football 'soccer'. Actually, where I live, we call American football 'futbal' and soccer 'kaduregel' (lit. football) XD.

DojomistressAmbyChan- If you thought last chapter was crazy, wait 'till you see this one!

Akuryounoseiki- muahaha. We are eviiil. So we make things much worse….

Epiphany Under Moonlight- OMG, how did you guess!

Obsessed Uber Rei- Oh wait 'till you see what Ryou has to say!

LadywolfTerri- Wow, you also guessed!

Sharone- yay, I get to write you a review response! But I can't think of anything to say now. Oh well. Bais Yaakov rocks. Yay.

And also thanks to Kotori chan, chibichibimalik2, SonnyGoten, Maedhros, and Dark Magician Girl Hikaru, we love you all!

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

There was something warm and smooth beneath his cheek. Ryou snuggled closer to that soft warmth, sighing contentedly. He trailed his fingers down the side of Malik's face, wishing this dream world could last forever...

Hold on a second. MALIK'S FACE? He jolted upright, his heart pounding. Malik was in his bed! Even worse, he'd been lying on top of Malik's chest!

Completely terrified and utterly confused, Ryou tried to wiggle off of the Egyptian, only to have Malik link his arms tightly around his waist.

Ryou fell back onto Malik's chest, his mind whirling. What the hell was Malik doing in his _bed_? And _why had they been sleeping like thi_s?

And the worst part was, he didn't think he minded very much at all.

Malik shifted slightly, a breathy moan escaping his lips. Ryou froze nervously, praying to whatever gods existed that Malik wouldn't wake up quite yet. At least they were still clothed, he thought feverishly. What if they'd bonked! He might've lost his virginity and not even remember it! How unfair!

His body was starting to become uncomfortably hot at the thought of being naked in bed with Malik. He exerted control with difficulty to keep from shivering. Lying still on Malik's chest, Ryou concentrated on the soothing rhythm of the Egyptian's breathing, watching Malik's chest rise and fall beneath the printed t-shirt.

Malik suddenly shifted again, his arms tightening around Ryou, lavender eyes cracking open. Ryou couldn't even jerk away, terror freezing him where he was.

"Mmm... 'Kura, you stupid idiot..." Malik mumbled, seeing the white blob of hair above him.

What? Since when did Malik call him 'Bakura'! A nasty suspicion filled Ryou's mind, only to be strengthened at Malik's next words.

"Oh...Ryou...hi...RYOU!"

Malik jerked awake instantly, staring at Ryou's angry face. This was _not_ good.

Ryou clenched his fists in Malik's shirt. "You _bastard_!" he screamed, both vocally and inwardly, waking up his yami.

_Ryou?_ Bakura said groggily.

"You _knew_! All this time you knew, and you didn't tell me! And then you go and pull something like this!" He wasn't even sure who he was talking to any more.

"Knew what?" Malik and Bakura asked simultaneously, perhaps not very wisely.

"You knew I liked him! He's _my_ friend! How dare you start with him? Were you going to screw him too? In MY body!"

And _you,_" he turned his attention to Malik, "All this time I've worried you'd think I was crazy because of my yami! And you couldn't even tell me you knew him?"

"I-"

"Shut up!" Ryou snapped, furious. "I thought you were my friend! How can you go and do something like this behind my back! This is MY body! MINE!"

_Well Malik is MY boyfriend_! Bakura snarled.

"He should have been mine!"

"What?" Malik asked, confused.

Ryou drew in a shaky breath before diving straight back into his accusations. "You did this on purpose, didn't you? It's not enough that you screwed up my life all these years, but you took away the one person I finally managed to get friendly with!"

Malik was staring at Ryou, speechless, not understanding what he was talking about at all.

_Eat your heart out, hikari! _Bakura said gleefully_. He's mine. You waited too long._

Ryou looked down, barely noticing he was still sitting on Malik's stomach, hands fisted in the Egyptian's shirt, trying vainly to keep in the tears of anger and pain that run down his cheeks. "You should have been MY boyfriend! How could you! How could you _use_ me like this!"

"I-I didn't use you! I didn't even know you felt that way about me!" Malik stammered, relieved that at least Ryou was making some sense now.

"You'll be _my_ boyfriend now!" Ryou suddenly said. "It's my body! I get first dibs!"

Malik bit his lip, struggling to keep his shock from showing. What should he do? What _could_ he do?

Bakura was struck speechless. No WAY he was handing over Malik! _How dare you say that_! he roared at Ryou. _You have no right_-!

"And you had no right to use my body without permission! But do you ask? NO!"

"Fine," Malik suddenly cut in, "I'll be your boyfriend."

Both Ryou and Bakura were struck speechless, before Bakura suddenly took over.

"You two-timing bastard!" he yelled, "You dare say that right to my face!"

"But what do you want me to-"

"Hah! Take that!" Ryou crowed.

"-he's right, what I did-"

"Shut up hikari! This is coercion and you know it! He's MY boyfriend!"

"-was wrong WILL YOU QUIT ARGUING WITH YOURSELF AND JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR A FUCKING MINUTE?"

Malik's shout snapped Ryou and Bakura out of their personal argument, as the albino stared at him.

"I will be Ryou's boyfriend," Malik said evenly. "Because Ryou is right – I treated him badly. AND," he forestalled Bakura's imminent protest, "I will also be Bakura's boyfriend. Because Bakura asked me first. And that's all for now. Now get off my stomach, dammit! I can't breathe!"

* * *

"I still can't believe we're going to go to school late," Ryou said for the fiftieth time that morning.

Malik rolled his eyes and sighed. "Oh, your poor record is now shot for the rest of eternity! Repent sinners! The end of the world is coming!"

"Not funny," Ryou said flatly.

Malik fell to his knees and raised his arms to the heavens. "We're going to die! Diiiieee!"

"Oh quit it," Ryou grumbled, shouldering his backpack. "Let's go and get it over with."

Malik likewise grabbed his own. "That's the spirit! Onward to the guillotine!"

"Maliiiiiik," Ryou complained, "I said quit it!"

They left the house, still arguing, and caught the 11:35 bus to Domino High. On the bus, Ryou, sticking a mental tongue out at his yami, laced his fingers through Malik's. Malik seemed surprised, but smiled at him. Bakura growled.

Ryou and Malik arrived at school in time for the lunch break, and tried to sneak in without being noticed by any of the teachers.

Sadly, the failed miserably.

Even more sadly, it was Ishimura Sensei who noticed them first.

"Ishtar. Bakura. Fancy meeting you here," he said, an odd expression on his face, as if he couldn't decide whether to smirk or to frown.

Malik gulped. "Ryou, I'm counting on your wonderful reputation to save my skin," he murmured on the way to the principal's office.

* * *

They got off relatively lightly, with a single detention that afternoon writing a thousand-word essay on being on time to school. Malik grinned as they headed toward the cafeteria, in time to catch a few bites before the bell rang. "That went well," he remarked too brightly.

Ryou trudged behind him gloomily. "Detention!" he whimpered, "I got detention! I'm a delinquent!"

"Oh knock it off, Ryou. At least you're not spending it alone!"

"Even worse! I'm going to be in the same room as all the criminals!" He shuddered. "How could I have fallen like this!"

Malik sighed, and gave up on him.

As they walked into the lunchroom, Ryou shyly took hold of Malik's hand once again. He wanted people to know that Malik was _his_.

_You mean MINE,_ Bakura hissed.

"Hey!" Tristan caught their attention, waving from a table. The rest of the gang looked at them, noting the linked hands with interest.

"Heard you got into trouble for being late," Otogi observed with a grin.

Malik sighed. "Is it just me, or does gossip travel faster than light in this school?"

"O' course," Joey echoed Otogi's grin, "what did you expect?"

Malik shrugged, and leaned down to give Joey his customary peck on the cheek.

"Malik!" Ryou protested, jerking him back, "what are you doing?"

The blonde looked confused. "Saying hi to Joey?"

"Are you guys...together?" Joey asked.

"Joey!" Yugi said immediately.

Ryou ignored them both. "You know what I was talking about! I don't want you all over other people!"

"I'm not 'all over' anybody!" Malik snapped, now beginning to get angry.

At that statement, the whole gang frankly stared at Malik. That statement coming from _him_ of all people!

"You!" Ryou snapped, "You're always 'all over' people! Or don't you define randomly hugging, kissing, and snuggling other people as being all over them?"

"I don't..." Malik grew pale, his gaze darting quickly from one face to another. "You mean...that's what you've all been thinking about me! I thought we were friends!"

"We are your friends!" Tea said, "but you've been acting a little more than just friendly!"

"No, you don't understand!" Malik looked really distressed now. "In Egypt, that's what friends _do_! Everybody hugs and kisses each other all the time! I just thought- I-" he backed away, a frightened, lost-kitten look in his eyes before turning and bolting from the room.

As Malik heard the whole lunchroom suddenly erupt into renewed babble, he realized that the whole school had witnessed the event, and shuddered. How could he ever show his face in there again? All this time, everybody had been thinking he was some kind of... some kind of _slut_! He hadn't even noticed the behavior, he had just been acting the way everyone did back in Egypt! How could he have been so stupid!

He could only imagine what people had been saying behind his back all this time...

The Egyptian found a deserted classroom, and absently went in and sat down on the teacher's desk, pulling his knees up to his chest.

He was drawn out of his morbid thoughts by footsteps. Kaiba stood in the doorway, looking slightly surprised to find him there.

"Malik?"

"I bet you think I'm a slut too," Malik said bitterly.

Kaiba, shocked, kept his face carefully blank as he stepped into the classroom and closed the door. "Why would I think that?" he asked, sitting down on the desk next to Malik.

"'Cause I'm always _all over_ people," was the harsh answer. "I swear I didn't mean it that way! Why didn't they just _say_ something before?"

"People who aren't familiar with different cultures often have misconceptions about the different behavior. It means that they're uneducated boors. Actually," Kaiba continued, "they're uneducated boors regardless. But you shouldn't let them get to you."

Malik turned his face away. "That doesn't change the fact that everybody in this entire fucking school now thinks I'm a slut!"

"If anything, now they think you're not a slut."

"But-"

"And you definitely shouldn't let idiots like them make you cry."

"I'm not crying." Malik rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes.

"Crying is just the way we let feelings out," Kaiba said quietly. "Don't worry about it. If there's anger, and pain inside of you – well, you can let it show sometimes."

Malik glanced at him, then looked away. He turned his gaze everywhere but on Kaiba, suddenly glad to have met the calm, cool and collected CEO. With a shaky sigh, he leaned his back and closed his eyes. He hoped the moisture beneath his lids wouldn't leak past them and give away his gratefulness. After all, he didn't want to seem like too much of a nice guy. "Yeah," he said shakily. "Thanks for reminding me what big assholes they are."

"Any time," Kaiba responded with a grin.

* * *

For the rest of that afternoon Malik was unnaturally silent, refusing to look at anybody.

It was only by the end of the day that Ryou managed to corner him as they walked to detention together.

"I'm sorry, Malik," he said softly, "I guess we really misunderstood you."

"It's fine," Malik said automatically, which really meant that it wasn't quite fine.

"No," Ryou drew a breath, "it's not. We really hurt you back there, and it's my fault. We shouldn't have judged you like that."

"Ryou. It's okay, I don't blame you." Malik kept his eyes on the road in front of him. "Part of it is my fault – I was acting inappropriately for my surroundings. I should have known better."

"I still like you a lot, and I'm sure the gang understands." Ryou scuffed his shoes nervously.

Malik gently arched an eyebrow. "You _like_ me?"

"Ok, fine." Ryou giggled. "I _love_ you."

There, in the middle of the schoolyard, Malik kissed Ryou. He ignored the hoots of laughter and rude shouted remarks from students all around them, and looked gravely at Ryou. "Thanks," he said. "Because I think I'm going to need lots of love to get through this."

Ryou's eyes grew huge and round, and he pointed over Malik's shoulder. Malik whipped around to see Ishimura Sensei, a glower on his ugly face. "BOYS!" His angry yelling made them lower their heads guiltily. "What despicable behavior on the school grounds! Add an hour to you detention!"


	12. Shadows and Scheming

Aaaaaand it's an update! Yay! We'll do review responses next chapter…school is being nasty. But we love all of you readers!  
Warning- slight less-than innocent interaction in this chapter. Muahaha. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve

It was dark outside when Malik and Ryou were finally allowed to go home. Shadows leaped from behind every bush and tree to block their path, but failed miserably in the attempt and were mercilessly trampled.

"See?" Malik said cheerfully. "Wasn't that fun?"

"Fun! FUN!" Ryou snapped. "Sitting in detention, with all those, those _criminals_ staring at me! Did you see the guy with all the piercing?" Ryou shuddered.

"I don't know, I think he was pretty cool." Malik said thoughtfully. "It'd sure be cool to look like that – let's go get piercing on Sunday!"

"Or not." Ryou said flatly. "Besides, you've got a pretty nose, what do you want to go and make holes in it for?""

"I have a pretty nose?"

"No, it actually looks rather like a bat's face, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Malik laughed. "Speaking of bats, did you know that you can get rabies from bat guano?"

"O...kay..." Ryou blinked.

"I just wanted to let you know," Malik grinned, "'cause I think there's some on your shoulder."

"Where!" Ryou jumped. "Get it off!"

Malik laughed again, so hard he was nearly doubled over. "Ryou," he panted, "did you know that you have the word 'gullible' written on your forehead?"

"Not funny anymore," Ryou pouted. "Come on, I don't wanna walk around the streets in the dark."

They walked faster.

"Why are you in such a rush?" Malik finally asked.

"The people following us are making me nervous," Ryou hissed.

"People following us...?" Malik looked back, to see a huge crowd of about a hundred guys in black suits and sunglasses, very obviously _not_ looking at them.

"Ah."

Ryou looked sideways at Malik. "What do we do?"

"Are they bothering you?"

"YES!" Ryou yelled. "Of course they're bothering me! I'm being followed around in the dark by a bunch of weirdoes, and you're asking if they're _bothering_ me!"

Malik flinched. "Ok, ok, I get it." He stopped, and turned to face the crowd. "Do you guys mind? You're bothering him!"

The goons looked at each other and sniggered.

"Did you hear that?"

"We're _bothering_ him."

Malik looked at them nervously. "Ryou, on the count of three...OHMYFUCKINGOD, WHAT THE **HELL** IS THAT!"

"What! Where?" Confusion reigned as the goons all scrabbled to see what Malik had exclaimed over. Malik grabbed Ryou's arm and sprinted off as fast as he could, dragging Ryou in his wake. They stopped running only when they reached Ryou's house.

"Geez," Ryou panted, "I never would've believed that trick could actually _work_..."

"Every time," Malik said sadly. "Those guys just aren't much in the way of brains."

"Every time!" Ryou caught Malik's arm. "Wait a sec, what does that mean? You've used it before?"

Malik stiffened. "I've had lots of run-ins with those kinds of guys... I don't live in the best of neighborhoods, you know."

"No, I don't, since you don't seem very eager to tell me anything at all about yourself!"

Malik looked away. His hands clenched at his sides, but he showed no other sign of the struggle inside. He noticed Ryou's sideways glance, but the white-haired boy kept silent. He took out his key and headed toward his house, across the street. Malik followed, guilt spreading through his chest.

Ryou opened his door, then looked back at his boyfriend. "Um... Malik?"

"Yeah?"

Ryou gulped nervously, then plunged forward headlong. "Listen, it's late, and dark.. why don't you stay over my house tonight? I can make the couch into a bed for you...I just don't want you to get hurt!" he finished quickly when he saw Malik open his mouth.

Malik grinned. "The couch? I'm not going to sleep in your bed?"

Ryou blushed charmingly and calmly turned toward his bedroom. "Okay," he said over his shoulder. "I'm not sure if the bedposts are strong enough though," he added.

"Bedposts?" Malik wondered.

"Of course!" Ryou said cheerfully. "I have to chain you to something, don't I?"

Malik clasped his hands, and his eyes got all watery. "Oh, Ryou I'm so proud of you! My widdle Ryou has gotten all grown up! And here I was worried about giving you the 'Birds and the Bees' speech..."

"I invite you to quit making an idiot of yourself and do something useful. You can get the bowls," Ryou called from the kitchen.

Malik grinned, and went to choose bowls. Ryou came out with a plastic Tupperware tub full of chocolate pudding, and two spoons. He plonked them down on the table with an answering smile.

"Chocolate!" Malik's eyes lit up.

Ryou handed him a spoon. "I wouldn't dare serve you anything else."

After the first couple of spoonfuls, Malik acquired a naughty gleam in his eye. He dipped one finger in the smooth substance and began licking it off slowly. Ryou looked up, his spoon freezing halfway to his mouth. Malik smirked at him.

"Ryouuuu...I want your pudding."

Puzzled, Ryou pushed his bowl over to Malik. "Um, sure..."

Malik shook his head, still grinning, and leaned closer to Ryou. "I said I wanted _your_ pudding..."

Ryou watched nervously as Malik leaned ever closer. He might have dropped his spoon when Malik began to close in had the Egyptian not taken it from his nerveless fingers. Quite deliberately, Malik inserted the spoon into his mouth, making Ryou blush, and sucking it clean. He put it down before leaning forward over the table and licking chocolate off Ryou's lower lip.

Ryou fought the trembling that threatened to overcome his limbs. He sat completely still as Malik's tongue traveled teasingly over his lips, afraid to move a muscle. Then Malik's mouth moved to cover his and he submitted fully to the kiss, letting Malik's tongue probe between his lips, a soft moan escaping his throat. His eyes fluttered closed when Malik's hands pulled his head closer, deepening the kiss.

Malik explored slowly, tasting the inside of Ryou's mouth with gentle strokes of his tongue, swirling it around Ryou's, urging the white-haired boy to respond. Ryou's arms moved to encircle Malik's neck as he sank into the kiss. He moaned a protest when Malik broke away moments later.

Ryou stared at Malik, his cheeks flushed, an unfamiliar light in his eyes. "That was my first real kiss," he said in wonder.

"How was it?" Malik panted, a little short for breath.

Ryou's expression of awe changed to something more dangerous. "I want more!" He grabbed Malik face between his hands and pulled him down again.

Malik responded eagerly. He ignored the slick spot on the table where pudding had spilled until his elbow slipped in it, sending both him and Ryou to the floor in a heap.

Ryou yelped in surprise, both at the sudden jolt and at the weight of Malik on top of him.

Malik tried to orient himself. "You ok Ryou?"

"Yeah, fine," Ryou said, trying to sit up, his earlier boldness forgotten. Their proximity was making him slightly nervous now.

"Hey," Malik said softly, "don't worry." He made no move to budge from his comfy position on Ryou's stomach. He trailed a hand softly down Ryou's cheek, and bent his head to tease Ryou's earlobe with his teeth.

Ryou gasped, sensation flooding him, and his head fell back against the floor. Then suddenly he was _pushed_,and he found himself staring at the locked door of his soulroom.

Malik licked the curve of Ryou's jaw, and then registered the change. "Bakura!" he jerked away in surprise.

"What?" Bakura fixed his eyes on Malik's.

"Don't surprise me like that! Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something!" Malik complained.

"Of course," Bakura said, in a 'no duh' tone, blinking at him innocently.

"Bastard," Malik sighed, absently lifting Bakuara's striped shirt and running his hand in circles on Bakura's bare chest.

"But what would you do without me?" Bakura tried not to arch his back.

Malik smirked. "I dunno... who's on his back right now practically begging? Hmm?"

"I might be begging... except for one itty bitty detail..." Bakura panted as Malik shifted his hips against his.

"Yeah?"

"You're getting chocolate pudding in my hair."

* * *

Getting ready for school the next morning was much more enjoyable than usual. The morning routine somehow seemed much more fun, when they shared it. Even small things like brushing teeth and eating breakfast seemed amusing. 

They met Yugi, Anzu, Joey and Honda at the usual corner by the school. Both Ryou and Malik waved back at them once they were noticed, running to greet them. Malik, grinning, reached to give Yugi a hug, but suddenly noticed what he was doing, and pulled back. He stood frozen, awkwardly trying to find something to do with his hands, while everybody else was silent.

Finally, Malik mustered up a smile and said a rather lame "hello," which Yugi answered in relief.

Yugi sighed to himself as they all walked into the schoolyard, the awkward silence refusing to leave them. _You know_, he commented silently to Yami, _I think I liked it better when Malik was hugging everybody. Poor guy._

_He's just not used to it yet,_ answered Yami. _Hopefully you'll manage to get past this intact. I mean, it's not THAT big a trauma, is it?_

_I think it might be bothering him quite a bit._

Ryou slipped his hand into Malik's, giving him a reassuring squeeze, and earned a smile in return.

Malik spent the rest of that day tensing up whenever anyone approached him, and then forcing himself to smile and relax. He only shared one class with Ryou that day, so they parted that morning with Malik blowing Ryou a kiss when he thought nobody was looking. He sighed and slumped down in his seat, determined to last the day through.

The day dragged on so horribly, though, that at some point the only thing keeping him going was imagining various dinosaurs destroying the school again...and again...and again...

The last bell rang. Malik, who took the extra Calculus course, stayed an hour later on Thursday than Ryou, so he didn't bother looking for his boyfriend before leaving the schoolyard. Feeling unexplainably happier than he had in weeks, Malik headed towards the garage where he had his after-school job.

Ryou was such a... a light in his life, Malik thought as he began gathering the tools he need to start tampering with motorcycles. He grinned. If Ryou was light, then Bakura must be the absolute opposite. Which wasn't totally true, either. It was Bakura who had helped him in the beginning, even against his wishes. Kaiba had also been there for him in his time of need, but somehow what he felt for Kaiba was totally different. Kaiba was an irreplaceable friend, but Bakura was... Bakura. He _was_. And Ryou... they were both so special to him.

Not to mention that they were both HOT.

They were like two sides of a coin. Ryou was sweet, shy and totally inexperienced. His total naiveté drew Malik like a fly to bright light, and he was almost jealous of Ryou… he might give a lot to be like him. On the other hand, Bakura was violent, explosive and had more experience than most people got in three lifetimes. Bakura was the epitome of who _he_ used to be, and it looked like his past just wasn't going to leave him alone. He could do without the constant reminder, but perhaps it was time he moved forward and faced himself.

Maybe having two boyfriends, especially as good-looking as them, had its perks. But... he couldn't help but feel bad about two-timing both of them, even if they knew what he was doing.

Thinking about his boyfriends made him suddenly wonder what his brother and sister would think of his relationship. The thought of his family made him sigh. How long had it been since he had seen them? His chest tightened with feeling he couldn't identify. He really did miss them. They hadn't tried to contact him at all...didn't they wonder where he had gone? True, both Isis and Rishid had been horribly over-protective, but he hadn't meant to take it this far, only to run away for a little while. Maybe...maybe he should try to contact them. It had been a while, after all, they were probably worried...

Malik suddenly stopped what he was doing, a chill running through him as he remembered the strange people who had followed him and Ryou. Could it be...were _they_ finally catching up to him? He had never properly fulfilled his end of the deal, they could very well be coming after him now because of that. Malik sighed, leaning against the motorcycle. He didn't need this now. How stupid of him, to forget one of the main reasons he had left Japan in the first place...

* * *

Kaiba watched Malik as he came into school the next day, still nervous around everybody. The Egyptian apparently still hadn't quite figured out how he was supposed to greet everybody, and was quite obviously ill at ease around his friends, who were (not surprisingly) clueless as to how to solve the problem. With all their friendship crap, he would've thought they could have managed something by now, but- whatever. As Malik came over to his desk, right behind Kaiba's, the CEO stood up decisively. 

"Malik," he greeted, and kissed Malik swiftly on the cheek. Malik blinked at him in complete surprise, frozen in place.

"Uneducated boors," Kaiba said in explanation. "Don't let them put you off your customs."

Malik smiled slowly, already feeling better, and kissed Kaiba back, before going to sit down, looking much happier. There were murmurs around the class, but Malik steadfastly ignored them now. A small smile cracked Kaiba's emotionless mask.

* * *

Ryou sat with his arms around his knees, his back against a back window. He hugged himself harder, resting his cheek dreamily on his knees. Malik was his... his... his mind shuddered to voice the word _boyfriend_. He felt like he was being nasty, but he couldn't help the feeling that he was one-up on his yami. After all the times his yami had controlled him and used him, Ryou finally felt he was getting a small bit of payback. Whenever he was with Malik, he could practically taste Bakura's jealousy, and of course because of school, he was able to spend much more time with the Egyptian than Bakura could. It was easy to see that Malik was more relaxed around Ryou, and Ryou felt a guilty pleasure in that. 

But, despite that, Ryou genuinely cared for Malik very much. Before Malik had showed up, his life had been so, well, boring. Now he was simply so much happier to just wake up in the mornings, knowing that Malik was part of his life.

He hugged his knees harder to keep from reaching out to where Malik lay in the bed below him and smoothing a lock of hair that had fallen over Malik's sleeping face. And Malik's face... it looked quite a bit fuller than it had just a short while ago. Malik was eating properly now! Ryou smiled to himself, having not tired yet of watching Malik wolf down his cooking.

Ryou sighed, getting up. Much as he enjoyed sitting and watching Malik sleep, he also had school the next day. He knew he didn't, couldn't, present the kind of challenge that Bakura did to Malik, but was just glad to be there for him anyway. Silently, the hikari left the dark room, and shut the door behind him.

* * *

In the back of Ryou's mind, Bakura silently fumed as he watched the interaction between Malik and his hikari. It wasn't fair how much time Malik spent with Ryou, he thought furiously. Malik belonged to him just as much as to his hikari, if not more! A tiny worm of jealousy started to eat through the tombrobber's mind. Bakura quickly shuddered away from that thought. What was wrong with him? Why was he becoming such a sap over some crazy, cute, hot, hunk of an Egyptian? 

No, bad thoughts! _If_ _he gets close to Ryou, then he'll probably screw Ryou first, right?_ he said to himself. _That can't happen. He's MINE. And I'm going to have him no matter what. It's not like I've gone soft. I'm just playing along with him...Just until I get to fuck him...mmmmm_…

He couldn't quite understand the faint feeling of sadness that came along with that thought, so he ignored it.


	13. Shirts and Shadow Dancing

Yo guys! This is SeventhDaughter speaking. Tramontana is on vacation and will not be available for the next… hic… three weeks… hic hic… gives up and breaks down in tears. Oh god, why did she have to leave me? I miss her so much!  
Yeah, well. There ya go. And she didn't even have the good graces to take me to Italy with her.  
So, review responses…. Here we go:

Tsuki-neko-chan: thank you very much for the offer. If I ever run out of ideas, which seems… rather unlikely… I'll think about it.

Kami anya: Kaiba is, well, Kaiba. Couldn't help but make him cute : ). And I'll be sure to let Tramontana know that everyone loves OtP. She'll be thrilled… she works sooo hard on it.

Obsessed Uber Rei: please don't go into cardiac arrest! That sounds dangerous, and we do try our best. But with finals and vacations and time-pressing last-minute emergencies that pop up all the time, not to mention the fact that our country's gone all to hell, we've had less and less time to write. So here's the next chapter for you! Hold on till the next one!

DojomistressAmbyChan: Bakura…. Screw…. Malik…. Those three words in the same sentence are just too much! But then, if I didn't feel that way, I wouldn't be writing malikXbakura fanfiction now, would I? Enjoy this next chapter! It has a bit of interaction between our two favourite bishies, but I won't tell you any more….

Yay! Everybody loooooves Misconception. Gee, can't think why…. No, don't go away, the chapter is coming right up! Thank you for your patience, peeps! Now ooooooon with the fic!

p.s.  
Please excuse the minor cursing in this chappie. Sorry, we couldn't help oureselves.

Chapter Thirteen

Malik woke up unusually early that morning. This might have been brought about by the large python that had appeared at some point during the night, and was now wrapped securely around him. Then again, it might not have. Malik blinked sleepily at the triangular face in front of him. "Hi Binky," he mumbled. Binky blinked back, and yawned. He shoved his wide mouth, filled with rows of dangerous looking teeth, in Malik's face.

Malik gulped. I didn't know snakes yawned, he thought. I didn't know snakes could blink, either.

Just out of spite, Binky blinked at him again.

Malik groaned and pushed the snake off him, annoyed at being awake so early, but knowing he wouldn't be able to get any more sleep anyway. He tiptoed silently over to Ryou's room, and was unsurprised to find that his boyfriend was still sleeping. With another silent yawn, Malik lifted his shirt above his head and tossed it in the general direction of Ryou's laundry basket. He'd worn it the day before and all night too, so it was high time he put on something else. Malik looked around Ryou's room, wondering which of his clothes he should take. It didn't occur to him that some people might mind somebody rooting through their things while they were sleeping. Malik pulled open a drawer, picking through the immaculately folded shirts, only to close it and open another. Several minutes were enough for him to confirm that Ryou had absolutely NO fashion sense whatsoever. And the shirt he had cut up those weeks ago to improve it was missing, too. Oh well, there were plenty of other shirts. Malik chose another blue-striped shirt out of one of the now-messy drawers, and carried it downstairs to 'fix it up'.

Malik had been absent from Ryou's bedroom not ten minutes when the white-haired boy rolled over with a mumble and promptly fell out of bed. He hit something squishy. It hissed at him. His eyes opened with an almost audible snap and he shook his head, trying to clear the six or so snakes that danced around his head. "Oww," he moaned softly. He sat up and stared straight into the open bottom drawer of his dresser. The morning was definitely not looking up, he thought unhappily as he surveyed the mess.

The problem was, there wasn't enough time for him to actually clean it up and still get to school on time. With a sigh, Ryou resolved to leave the mess for later, and meanwhile deal with the obvious culprit. Ryou trudged downstairs, to find said culprit innocently drinking hot chocolate by the kitchen table. All thought of the mess in his room was blasted clear out of his mind when he beheld the travesty before him.

"MALIK!"

The Egyptian looked up, blinking innocently.

"Morning, Ryou. I made a cup of hot chocolate for you too," he said.

"I won't be bought by your foul schemes!" Ryou thundered. "I will make you pay for the murder of another innocent shirt!"

"Oh, piffle." Malik shifted comfortable in his chair. "Come on, we've been through this before. The shirt is still yours, and for that matter, it isn't innocent."

Ryou blinked. "What? How is it not innocent?"

Malik rolled his eyes. "Honestly. Day in day out it rubs itself all over your upper body, and you call it innocent?"

Ryou turned scarlet. "Malik!"

His boyfriend just laughed at the look on his face, with his yami joining in.

Malik got up, and in one swift, graceful motion pulled Ryou to him and kissed him, smiling slightly at the cute squeak his boyfriend let out.

"There. Does that make up for it?"

Ryou ducked his head, hiding his blush. Much as he loved having Malik for a boyfriend, sometimes the other's obvious knowledge and experience was intimidating, and he sure as heck didn't want it to show.

Malik returned to his hot chocolate as if nothing at all had happened.

Ryou stared at him, then suddenly remembered the mess in his room. "MALIK! YOU KILLED MY ROOM! MY POOR, INNOCENT ROOM! DIE, FIEND!"

On the way back from school, Ryou seemed preoccupied. Malik didn't notice it too much, being how he was hurrying them both home at a much faster speed than usual, trying to shake the people he just _knew_ were shadowing them. (That knowledge might have had something to do with the crowd following them, while laughing loudly and cracking jokes, and the car inching alongside them where the driver was sharing popcorn with the passengers. They had offered Malik and Ryou some, but the two had declined.)

When they finally locked the door on Ryou's apartment, Malik breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes, willing away the feelings of desperation that being cornered caused, then followed Ryou into the kitchen. Ryou, shifting through the fridge, pulled out a pan of carrot quishe and set it on the table. He glanced at Malik, and decided he was brave enough to take the next step. "Malik."

"Hmm?" Malik, busy setting the kitchen table for two, didn't look up.

Ryou gulped, and then continued. "Listen, I know that we haven't known each other for very long at all..."

At this, Malik looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"But, I think that it's the best thing to do... I know that I'm still technically a minor, but I really feel like I can make this decision for myself, you know?" Ryou was a little nervous about what he wanted to ask.

"Uh, sure...?" Malik wasn't quite sure what Ryou was getting at. But he thought he might be able to hazard a guess. "Ryou..." he began, looking hopeful. "You'd really let me?"

"Well, yes, if you want to..." Ryou said, hardly believing it.

Malik jumped up, grasping both of Ryou's hands. "Of course I want to! I'd love to!"

Ryou smiled shyly. "I guess we'd better go and get your things from your old house, then?"

"There's not that much to bring, I lived in a pretty dinky place... I'm so glad I'll be living with you permanently!" Malik enthused.

"Can I still come with you to help get your stuff?"

"Uh..." Malik didn't want Ryou to see his old house, not to mention neighborhood, but after all Ryou had done for him...how could he refuse? "Sure, you can come."

Ryou tried not to stare and give away his shock, but still threw wide-eyed glances every which way as he trotted behind Malik on their way to Malik's house. The neighborhood was... well, he supposed dingy was a nice way to put it.

Malik hurried through the filthy narrow streets at a fast pace,

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" he asked

Malik sighed. "YES, Ryou. I TOLD you it was a nasty neighborhood, remember? What were my words, again?"

"Uh, the Supreme Hellhole at the Bottom of the Sewer at the End of the Universe?"

"Exactly. And that's where we are."

Ryou stepped forward and grabbed Malik's hand. "I don't like it here," he said softly. Who knew what lurked in the deep shadows of the alleys? He glanced down one alley as they passed, shuddering. Shadows danced all along its length, elongating and shortening in a macabre dance of fear and darkness. Bakura snorted at the eloquency of his mental description. Ryou mentally smacked his alter-ego. Ryou tried to ignore the shadows, and the amused derision he could feel emanating from Bakura. When you thought about it, the shadows were pretty bad dancers. Very bad, he thought, as one shadow disconnected itself from the wall and attached itself to the opposite wall. They couldnt even keep together.

Wait a minute. _That_ wasnt a shadow!

"Malik! The shadow dancers! They're not shadows!" Ryou yelped, latching on to his boyfriend.

Malik stared at him. "What?"

Ryou flushed, and organized his thoughts. "We're being followed!"

"I know," Malik answered. "I was trying to keep them from finding out we knew."

"Why didn't you tell me!" Ryou hissed.

"Because I - too late," he muttered as an arm swung out of the darkness toward his head. He dodged to the side with graceful ease that bespoke much practice, dragging Ryou down with him.

Ryou gasped as he hit his knees painfully on the sidewalk, but Malik tucked and rolled, springing up in front of Ryou, automatically crouched protectively over his friend. (A/N: ehm. coughcough. _boy_friend).

Five people stepped out of the shadows, and it was immediately obvious they were of a different breed than Malik and Ryou's daytime stalkers. They were big, their faces were cold, and they carried swords. Malik didn't like the odds at all.

Malik decided to take the offensive; maybe he could confuse them enough to nail them with some of his throwing knives. He sincerely hoped they were not well-trained individuals.

The first skirmish was a flurry of sparks and movement until Malik jumped away from them, panting. He had a small gash on one arm, but their attackers had backed away warily, and one was down with a knife in his throat. Malik felt a chill wash over him. The man was definitely dead. What if Ryou had seen?

The remaining four began to circle around him and Ryou. Malik grasped his last knife in a loose fist, shifting into another combat position. Then there was a familiar presence at his back, and that low, sexy growl of Bakura's that both excited and frightened him, "let's kick some arrogant ass." Malik felt the old feelings wash over him, relief mixed with a feral kind of joy.

"You take the left two," he answered flippantly, and lunged.

Bakura floored his first with a neat kick that shattered the goon's kneecap, followed by a downward chop on the neck as the goon headed for the floor. The second took slightly longer, but he finished them as fast as he could so he could watch Malik fight. He loved the way Malik's blonde hair flew crazily, like a halo in the dark, as Malik's body moved in a lethal dance of death, a wild look on his face. Three minutes, and they were the only two left standing. Malik straightened up, a slightly blood-crazed look on his face, and turned toward Bakura's moonlit form. Something was missing, he mused, something that would make Bakura look perfect. He stepped forward, and ran one bloody finger down Bakura's pale cheek, leaving a vivid trail against the milky white skin. Perfect. "Blood looks good on you."

Bakura tried to disguise the rapid beating of his heart by looking away, and gave a small snort. "Honestly. And you say you've changed."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Malik jerked back, reason suddenly returning, as he realized what he had done.

His first reaction was to lash out, landing a stinging slap on Bakura's cheek.

His second reaction was to run. He had to get away. Before he realized what a completely disgusting person he was. Before he thought about the fact that he had just murdered a person. Before he thought about how it didn't matter what he did, because there could be no salvation for someone as low as him.

Bakura stood frozen, uncomprehending, a red hand-shaped mark discoloring the fair skin of his cheek, until he registered that Malik was running. Bakura cursed and tore after the Egyptian. Malik was running again, running _away_, and he wasn't sure there was anything he could say to fix things up but he'd be damned if he'd let Malik get away again. A cold knot of fear formed in his stomach as he remembered the night Malik had tried to get run over.

Malik headlong rush was finally stopped when he tripped over something and fell, and at that point he no longer had any energy left to get up and keep running.

He stayed there, on his knees, as he sensed Bakura come close, and finally stop next to him.

"Malik! Are you...?"

"You're right," Malik cut in. "I'm such an idiot. Of course I haven't changed. I'm the same fucking dirty criminal I was before."

"That's not true," Bakura retorted.

"Yes, it is. I should have known, dammit, I should have known that changing was impossible! I was never worth anything before, and I'm not worth anything now."

"You're talking nonsense!" Bakura snapped. Malik looked up at him, and Bakura did not like the look in his eyes at all.

"It's nice of you to say that, even if it's not true. Because, if you knew...if you could see into my head...you'd know that I'm worthless! I almost wish you could, just so you would know that I'm right! But I'm selfishly glad you can't, because this way you don't completely hate me, don't know how bad I really am..."

He actually believes this shit, Bakura thought with horror. He knelt and grabbed Malik's shoulders. "Stop talking nonsense, ok? It's fine. I don't hate you, and I don't plan on it. We're gonna go home now, ok?" He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to make Malik see truth and act like the normal Malik. Heck, even the tight-assed way Malik had been treating him just a short while ago was better than this. Malik sounded so miserable, and with the way he was speaking so seriously, he would have sounded completely rational if not for the crazy things he was saying.

Malik didn't resist as Bakura pulled him upright, but his smile was sad and sardonic, because he knew that Bakura _couldn't_ see into his mind after all. At least Bakura didn't know about the awful things he was, right? That was something.

A horrible thought suddenly occurred to Malik, and he grabbed Bakura's shoulders. "Ryou! Does Ryou know? Did he see!"

Bakura shook his head, and Malik dropped his arms, sighing with relief. "He doesn't know... good... God, I'm such a liar!" He should tell Ryou, tell him and get it all over with. Because he knew Ryou _would_ hate him if he knew.

Bakura took a deep breath. "Malik, I don't think you should be looking at if you have or haven't changed. You should look at who you are now, and what you have now. You've got friends, and you've got Ryou, and me, and you've got your family out there somewhere, and we all care about you, no matter what you think about yourself. And I wouldn't lie to you about that. " He felt like throwing up from all the mush he was spouting, but if it made Malik go back to normal... well, then it was worth it.

Besides, he reflected, every inch of what he'd said was true.

Without looking at him, Malik raised his head with a deep breath. His eyes caught on the stars, tiny pinpoints of light twinkling so high above them. He closed his eyes and grasped Bakura's shoulder, pulling himself to his feet.

"Let's go." He walked away in the direction of his building without looking to see if Bakura followed, his steps as heavy as the weight in his chest.


	14. Memory and Mutilation

This… is a good chapter, if I do say so myself. Applause when you finish reading, please. We worked really hard on it.

tsuki-neko-chan: actually, snakes do blink. Their eyelids are see-through, transparent, clear (pick one) so even when they sleep, it looks as if their eyes are open, when in fact that is not the case. Hence, snakes blink. But thanks for the comment all the same – if we had made a mistake, we'd be glad to have it pointed out to us.

Dark Magician Girl Hikaru: enjoy this next chapter! More cool Bakura in this one, even if it is minus the blood.

Pihorist: you're absolutely right, that would be rather convenient for Bakura. But Bakura's mind runs a different track in this chapter… read and find out!

Aramis-chan: I'll keep my mouth shut and let you find out by yourself. After all, being the author, I can't start giving away the plot now can I?

Now on with the chapter. Enjoy all! Don't forget to leave us encouraging reviews, ok? Both Tramontana K and Seventh D are going through tough times at the moment, and our morale is kinda low.

Now read!

Chapter Fourteen

_Malik arched his back gracefully, stretching his arms above his head, exposing his caramel midriff to the dim light. His right fist tightened momentarily around the hilt of a common kitchen knife before he flicked it, almost lazily, in the direction of the life-sized Yami poster on his wall. The poster was already decorated with knives that protruded from various lethal, or at least painful, places. He grinned ferally as the blade thudded, vibrating slightly with the force of the throw, in the Pharoah's left eye. He straightened and crossed his arms against his chest, glancing smugly behind him. "What do you want, Bakura?"_

_The once-tomb robber unfolded himself from the sill of the third-story window and dropped soundlessly into the room. Annoyed as he was that Malik had so easily detected his presence, he composed his features into a cool, aloof expression, as if he had known that Malik had known he was there all along. He stepped forward and with the same motion threw a knife at Malik's head, only mildly disappointed when the brat shifted to avoid it and plucked the knife from the air. Still grinning, Malik twirled it expertly between his fingers. "Answer my question, dumbass."_

_"Patience, you lazy bitch." As Malik bristled, he added quite lazily, "What would _you_ call a bastard who plays at home while others do his work for him?"_

_Malik shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but Bakura could that tell he'd gotten to the young Egyptian. "I wouldn't expect someone of _your_ caliber to understand the level of expertise needed to control as many mind-slaves as I do, simultaneously."_

_"I hope you watch your diet. So much sitting around might make you fat."_

_Bakura watched as Malik sauntered over to the poster and pulled out several of the knives from Yami's various parts, eyeing the seductive sway of Malik's hips. It was a shame that someone so intractable came in such a pretty package. Malik snorted, returning Bakura's attention to the conversation (or lack thereof). "You're just jealous, uke-boy."_

_Bakura bit back an answering growl. Instead, he said coldly, "I'll overlook your immaturity for now. But anytime you wish to terminate our little agreement, I'll be happy to kill you."_

"_Assuming you could," Malik answered, fingering one dangerously sharp knife._

_At a temporary impasse, they studied each other silently for a moment. The Egyptian brat was way too arrogant for his good, Bakura thought as he calculated his chances of catching Malik off guard and killing him right there and then. He trusted Malik less than the distance he could throw him with one hand, and he wondered if this agreement was worth all the trouble it caused him. Preferring to work alone, Bakura was not used to dealing with young egotistical upstarts who treated him as an equal, or worse, a subordinate. He'd store this grievance away with the others that had accumulated during their brief acquaintance, waiting patiently for the right time to exact his revenge. Once the Millenium Rod was safely in his possession, Malik would learn the meaning of true subservience. He almost grinned at the mental image…_

…which did not fit the current situation at all. Bakura watched from his soulroom as Ryou helped Malik finish packing the last of his meager belongings into a duffel bag. The Malik he remembered and the current flesh-and-blood Malik overlapped only marginally. Although those memories had been fondly recalled, he realized suddenly that they were not happy memories. His interaction with Malik had been violent, demanding, even cruel. Malik had calmed down a lot since then, become almost normal, if a little insecure (well, ok, fine. More than a little) but he was much preferable to the Malik he had been. It was then that Bakura realized that Malik wasn't the only one to have changed 180º; he seemed to have mellowed out quite a bit himself. With a start, he noticed that it didn't seem to bother him as much as it should. Wasn't he supposed to be a spiteful, sadistic S.O.B? But he couldn't recall being as happy then as he was now. There was something to be said for being nic- nope, better not go there. He didn't want to scare himself, or turn into a putrid Yami-like _thing_.

He recalled himself to the present and watched through Ryou as Malik leaned over the top of the stuffed duffel bag to peck Ryou on the cheek. "Thanks," the Egyptian said with a smile. He stood up, dusted his hands off on his pants and looked around. "Let's go. I'll be glad to see the last of this hellhole. Pardon my French."

Ryou blushed, but rolled his eyes. "I'm not _that_ innocent, Malik."

Bakura seethed.

There seemed to be no trace of Malik's earlier panic attack. At least that was in his favor. But it irked, shredded, tore, bit at him… um. That was overdoing it. _Annoyed_ him that he was the one who made Malik miserable while Ryou made the blonde act… well, blonde. Or maybe that wasn't actually a _good_ thing, when he thought about it. Malik was dumb enough already; he definitely didn't need any further encouragement.

He was so totally deluding himself. Malik wasn't like that at all. So why the heck would he do that? Could it be that he might possibly lll…lo… lov….

He turned away from that thought as warning bells, sirens, klaxons and foghorns began to go off loudly in the empty recesses of his brain.

Fuck.

* * *

Malik was a bit less worried about being attacked on the way back to Ryou's house, considering that he now had a very large duffel with which to defend himself. Ryou did not seem to share his tranquility. But that, Malik mused, was because he'd probably never been hit in the head with a very large duffel. As they walked, he noticed Ryou stayed **far **away from any and all shadows. That was a rather difficult feat, since it was nighttime and therefore involved lots of weaving about and crossing streets back and forth, but Ryou refused to be dissuaded from his undertaking. 

"Ryooouuuu," he whined at the 50th time Ryou jumped onto him when a leaf blew into his path. "Will you cool it? I promise I won't let the evil leaves hurt you, ok?"

Ryou pouted angrily. "Quit laughing at me."

"Who's laughing? I thought I was doing an excellent job of keeping a straight face."

Malik winked at Ryou, who glowered. He snatched the duffel from Malik and swung it over Malik's head, then blinked at the spectacular result. Think Malik-faced pancake.

"Ooooh… so _this_ is why you weren't worried about being attacked!" he told the pancake. "I feel so much better now!" And he proceeded to skip all the way back to his house, whistling cheerfully, while Malik trailed behind him in utter, pained, misery.

At Ryou's house, they each had a glass of hot chocolate before lugging Malik's duffel into Ryou's room to unpack the few necessities he'd need for the night. Ryou emerged from the bathroom wearing his light blue and pink bunny print two-piece pajamas, only to pause before his occupied bed.

"Uh, Malik," he began tentatively. The Egyptian looked up at him curiously, wondering if sleeping in the same bed bothered Ryou.

"Ryou?"

"Could you please try _not_ to occupy the entire bed? It's not that big, and I need to sleep too."

"I'll do my best." Malik obligingly rolled over from his previous sprawled position. He had taken off his lavender shirt because of the heat, and the black sleeveless he wore underneath. His canvas-material pants were black too, but those he left on. Black looked good on Malik, Ryou noted.

Several minutes of shifting, rolling and shoving later they finally found a comfortable position on the not-terribly-wide bed. Ryou tried to control his blushing and pounding heartbeat (and wild imagination) at the proximity, at least enough to fall asleep.

Malik, Ryou quickly discovered, was a _very_ restless sleeper. Ryou was prodded, nudged, and even kicked a few times, until he fell off the bed around 4AM. He sat up groggily, only to see Malik sprawled once again across the whole bed, snoring peacefully like a herd of hippopotami. Ryou jerked the pillow out from under Malik's head, and slept the few hours left to the night on the hard, cold, unforgiving floor. Ooohhh, Malik was going to pay for that later.

* * *

The next morning found Bakura leaning against the small porch railing, the wind blowing dramatically through his pearly loc – hair. Malik stepped quietly up behind him, then suddenly yelled "BAH!" 

Poor Bakura leapt in surprise, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. "Malik!" he admonished when the blonde began to roll on the floor in paroxysms of glee.

"Haha! That was ten feet, Kura! You should've seen the look on your face!"

Bakura scowled. "I did NOT jump ten feet. Maybe three," he admitted grudgingly.

"Five!"

"Three and a half."

"Four."

"…Fine," he finally conceded, and huffily went back to contemplating the boring and disgustingly peaceful scenery. He rested his chin in his hands, his back to Malik. The blonde had picked himself up from his undignified floor antics and leaned on his elbows beside Bakura. "What's up?"

"The sky?"

Malik frowned. "No, really."

"The birds _and_ the sky?"

Malik waited patiently.

Bakura knew he'd won this round. "Nothing much."

"Fine, don't talk to me. See if I care."

Bakura sighed. "That's just what I _don't_ want to do with you. Don't you get it? Supposedly you're my boyfriend, but you sure as hell don't act it."

"_I_ don't?" Malik was immediately defensive.

"What do you mean?"

"Why is it always _my_ fault? Is it because the great arrogant Tombrobber can do no wrong?"

"Well, what the hell do you want me to do? You wont let me get close to you! When Ryou needs you you're all over him, but with me you just freak and push me away!"

"And when exactly have you ever _needed_ me!"

"Now," Bakura said simply. With that, he leaned forward and kissed Malik. Not for the first time, Malik lost himself completely in Bakura's kiss, in the worlds that collided and seeped from Bakura into him and from him into Bakura. This time the kiss was accompanied by an unfamiliar, painfully sweet tightening in his chest.

They broke for air and Malik, his head tilted to the side, wore an adorably dreamy expression on his face. "Never mind," he said breathily. He bent forward to lean his head in the crook of Bakura's neck, but straightened with a rueful expression. "You're a bit short for that."

Bakura turned red. "Not my fault that you're the uke!"

Malik grinned dangerously down at him. "You're going to rue that remark later, when you're too sore to sit down."

"We'll see," Bakura replied, ruffling Malik's hair on his way inside.

Malik stuck out his foot, neatly tripping Bakura, then pranced just out of reach. "Don't be late for breakfast!" he called.

On the floor, Bakura watched Malik's receding back, his desire rekindled to twice its former strength. He picked himself up and headed, whistling, for the kitchen, wishing most uncharacteristically that the brief moment of euphoria he'd experienced could last forever.

Said moment was ruined by the bird that decided to leave a dropping in his previously immaculate hair.

Breakfast was extremely eventful, and many strange things happened, but as they are unrelated to our story we'll ignore that and pretend nothing happened.

"Bakura," Malik said, when he showed no sign of letting Ryou take control. "You should let Ryou take over, we need to go to school, and I don't want to be late!"

Surprise flitted across Bakura's face. "What, you don't think I can deal with your stupid school for one day?"

Malik didn't look up as he cleared the table. "It's not that I don't think you could handle it, it's just that you might cause Ryou to… miss stuff, and you know how important doing well is to him."

Bakura narrowed his eyes. "That sounds like an excuse for favoritism."

Malik was busy washing the dishes. "Don't be silly."

Without a word, Bakura disappeared.

"Morning, Malik," Ryou said, nudging the Egyptian away from the sink. "Come on, we should get going, leave the dishes."

"Sure." Distractedly, Malik slung the towel he'd been using to dry his breakfast bowl on his shoulder, caught himself, and laughed. "Whoa, ok, that was weird. I'll go get my backpack." He hurried out of the kitchen.

Ryou stared after him, bemused.

Bakura wondered if Malik wasn't suddenly happier, now that Ryou had appeared. He growled loud enough to attract Ryou's attention.

_Bakura?_

_Shut up and leave me alone!_ Bakura snarled at him.

Whoa, thought Ryou. Who got _his_ goat?

There was a muffled explosion inside the soulroom that Ryou tactfully ignored.

* * *

School that day was also incredibly eventful and many important things happened, but none of them are related to this story, much like breakfast. So we shall pretend it was a normal, boring school day, and that nothing involving orange and purple striped Martians and chewing gum happened at all. 

Bakura sulked all day in his soulroom, cooking up plan after plan on how to get Malik into the bathroom to snog, but somehow Malik managed to evade him every time. The only alone time he managed to spend with Malik was on their way home, watching from Ryou's eyes as Malik chattered and laughed the entire way. Bakura resolved to change that just as soon as they were out of public view.

When they were home, Bakura set his (latest) plan (of the day) into action (#47). While Malik finished the last of his trigonometry assignment, he cut a thick slice of chocolate cake and smothered it with vanilla icing. He placed a strawberry on the swirl and set it before Malik with a proud smile. Malik looked from the chocolate cake to Bakura suspiciously, before commenting, "Can I have a fork too?"

Bakura huffed. "I go to all this trouble, and he wants a fork! A _fork_!"

"Well excuuuuse me," Malik rolled his eyes. He swiped a finger through the icing and brought it to his mouth. "Or is this what you wanted?" he asked, inserting the finger into his mouth and sucking on it. He waited for the telltale drool to start dripping, but to his surprise, Bakura just sat down across from him, calmly resting his chin in his hands. Malik was therefore obliged to continue his sensual little show.

Bakura smirked as he watched Malik slide the finger slowly in and out of his mouth. Oh, Malik was a sexy bitch all right, but he wasn't going to let the kid know how turned on he was. Let Malik turn himself on first, then he'd be more receptive to the attentions Bakura intended to lavish on him.

Malik closed his eyes and tipped his head back, savoring the much-loved taste of chocolate. He was very much aware of Bakura sitting across from him, watching, but he ignored the unblinking gaze. Or tried to. He felt himself responding, the hairs on his arms and neck rising and the places where the soft material of his shirt brushed against skin were suddenly over-sensitized. His head fell back further; he wasn't surprised when fingers brushed lightly over his throat, traced his prominent collarbone. "Open your mouth," Bakura's husky voice ordered him and he obeyed without thinking. Bakura slipped a chocolaty finger inside Malik's mouth; Malik's cheeks hollowed as he sucked the finger clean, swirling his tongue provocatively around it. He couldn't resist savoring the chocolaty taste; it literally intoxicated him. He opened glazed eyes and stared into Bakura's hot, branding gaze, realizing that for the first time since he'd met Bakura, he was able to return the feelings of desire that Bakura seemed to have felt toward him since the beginning. His sudden surge of desire was reflected in Bakura's eyes. The once-tomb robber leaned forward across the table to touch his tongue to the corner of Malik's mouth, to nibble his way along Malik's jaw to his ear, to tug it gently between his teeth. Malik drew in his breath with a hiss, almost flinching back.

"I… I don't think I'm ready for this," he whispered.

"We can go as slowly as you want," Bakura told him. "You set the pace." He brushed some of Malik's flaxen hair off his face tenderly. "I love your hair," he murmured.

It didn't occur to Malik to notice the strange gentleness in Bakura's behavior; he was too caught up in his desire, and his hesitance to act upon it.

Suddenly hot and uncomfortable, Malik shifted in his seat. He pushed the mostly-uneaten (though thoroughly mutilated) piece of cake away and stood up. With a glance over his shoulder intended to be neither coy nor bold that succeeded in being both, he proceeded to Ryou's bedroom. Bakura followed warily behind him, daring to hope.

Malik pulled Bakura into the room and closed the door. "If I'm going to do this, might as well do it right," he muttered before pushing a surprised but pleased Bakura up against the door and kissing him fiercely. Congratulating himself on whatever combination of luck and tactics had gotten him to this point, Bakura kissed Malik back. His hands tangled in Malik's hair, Malik's beautiful silky hair, and he finally let passion overrun him.

After a few minutes of intense snogging later, Malik grinned at Bakura. "You kiss better than anyone I've ever kissed before." Suddenly, he grew graver. "Um, Bakura… is this okay? I mean, what about Ryou…?"

Bakura bit his lip to stop from saying 'fuck Ryou'. After all, Malik might take that the wrong way, given the current circumstance. "He won't know a thing," he promised, nudging the slim Egyptian toward the bed. "I've been blocking him out since I offered you the cake."

"In that case." Malik grabbed Bakura's wrists and shoved him onto the bed, trapping the tomb robber beneath himself. Bakura blinked up at him in surprise, his slow, seductive smile spreading over his face. "This your first time on top?" he purred.

Keeping a firm hold on Bakura's wrists, Malik kneed the tomb robber's legs apart. "I still remember our conversation this morning," he replied in equally sultry tones. "I'll do my absolute best to make it true."

And so he did. Much to Bakura's chagrin, Malik proved very capable of being seme. In fact, he proved it twice. By their third time Malik was sufficiently tired out and Bakura secured himself an above position. After that, they sort of lost count, and by then it didn't matter… they were in each other's arms, the night was young and so were they (if one didn't count the few thousand years of being sealed in a magic ring as age), blahbitty blah blah.

That was all in case you were really interested. To tell more would be invading upon the lovers' privacy, and we'd have had to ask them first… I'm sure you'll understand why we bailed out of that one.

Six thirty the next morning found Bakura, hair sticky with sweat, lying with Malik nestled in his arms. He rested his chin in Malik's messy mop of hair, willing his breathing to slow down. Malik shifted slightly. "Morning," he muttered.

Bakura turned Malik's head to kiss his nose. "Good morning."

Malik smiled sleepily at him. He sat up, wincing as his movement pulled at scratch marks on his back. "'Kura, did you have to be so violent? I'll be sporting some nasty bruises for a while!"

"You're one to talk," Bakura muttered. "I had to endure some much _nastier_ bruising than you did."

"Hey, you enjoyed every bit of it!"

"Even this," Bakura fingered one of the bite marks on his neck. "Though you bit a little _too_ hard right there in the 'throes of passion'."

"Sorry." Malik, not looking sorry at all, pulled himself out of bed with a groan. "We'd better start getting ready, we aught to have this place straightened before Ryou wakes up."

"Who cares? We didn't do anything wrong."

Malik frowned. "But… it is his body, you know. He's not going to be too happy when he finds out." He felt rather guilty about everything that had… transpired… between him and Bakura last night. "Maybe we shouldn't have… or at least asked him first…."

"What, so now you need his permission? Are you going to ask him the next time you wipe your ass too?"

"Hey." Malik straightened, his shirt halfway on, the tight material scrunched just below his arms. "Don't be mean. It _is _Ryou's body, and he certainly can tell us what to do or not do with it."

"Do you regret last night?" Bakura asked fiercely, still lying on his side on the bed.

Malik looked uncomfortable. "No. But…."

"But what?"

"But Ryou's also my boyfriend, and I want him to be happy!"

"So you don't care if I'm happy?"

"No!" Malik hit the bed with his palm in frustration. "That's not what I said! Stop twisting everything I say!" He turned his back on Bakura to pull on a new pair of jeans. Bakura just sat and watched him, resentment and anger and hurt growing within him. It was always about Ryou, wasn't it. It didn't matter what he did or how he did it, Ryou always mattered more to Malik than he did. They were more compatible with each other, and it made perfect sense – hikari with hikari. There was no room for the crazy yami anywhere in there. Hikari/yami meant balance, but in a relationship… well, obviously it wasn't about _balance_, it was about happiness. Why had he even bothered trying? Well, let them have each other. Malik made it clear all the time that he was happier with Ryou; it was certain that Ryou didn't make him nearly as _un_happy as Bakura did.

In that moment, Bakura made his decision. It was an incredibly stupid decision, probably the worst decision he could have made under the circumstances (or in his life at all). It was the kind of decision that any rational person could have warned him against, that any fangirl could have _told_ him would make events turn out badly. Sadly enough, there were no fangirls around to warn him, and so there was no one to stop poor Bakura from choosing this idiotic course of action, although he probably wouldn't have listened even if they had been there to warn him.

He stood up languorously, still naked, and moved in front of Malik, the notorious, cold smile in place. Malik noticed it immediately and his heart skipped a beat. Something was definitely wrong; he could feel it. Bakura never smiled like that unless something was very right for him, but it boded extreme danger for anyone else. "Bakura?" he asked, almost tentatively.

"Thanks, Malik."

"Huh?"

"You were the best fuck I've had in a while. I enjoyed it, really. Maybe we can do it again, the next time I get horny."

"Bakura, what are you talking about?"

The white-haired devil stepped closer and rested his hand mockingly on Malik's cheek. "It's simple, really. I'd made a sort of bet with myself, you see, on how long it would take me to get you in bed. I've been wondering how that tight ass of yours would feel. And it was great, really it was, but that's _all_ there was. Now that I've had you, well, it's over."

Malik was very white, an impressive feat for someone with his complexion. "What?"

"I'd have you again anytime, but didn't you hear me? I said it's over."

Malik stared at him as if he were having trouble understanding the words that Bakura was shooting, like knives, at his person. "…You mean you… you never felt anything… for me?"

Bakura was already finding it hard to stand firm against the horrified expression on Malik's face, and fought against the powerful urge to throw himself into Malik's arms and beg his forgiveness, tell him it was all a lie. Instead he slapped Malik's cheek lightly and smiled callously. "Smart boy. Did you actually think I might _love_ you? Was my acting that good?"

_Slap! Crack!_ Bakura's head snapped to the side and back again as Malik slapped and then backhanded him.

"You…you…!" Malik couldn't come up with anything foul enough to call Bakura.

"What? Bloody bastard? Fucking asshole son-of-a-bitch? But nothing tops you, Malik. You're nothing more than a third-class _whore_."

Malik jerked away from him as if he'd been hit. What Bakura saw in his eyes at that moment went beyond anger, almost beyond hurt. Malik turned away, his movements wooden and jerky, and left. Bakura stared after him with the sinking certainty that he had definitely succeeded. Malik hated him now, and would live happily ever after with Ryou. Malik would never look at him again except with utter loathing. The distant slam of a door was the final blow that signaled the very end. That was it, it was over. His brief happiness in Malik's arms was no more.

He noticed with a sort of detached calmness that Malik had left his sneakers on the floor near Ryou's dresser. Outside the bedroom window, a bird twittered soft greetings to the day. The everyday hustle and bustle of Domino City was about to begin.

Bakura sat down on Ryou's bed, and cried.

* * *

Malik slammed the bathroom door behind him. Once more, he was nothing. How had he messed up so badly, again? He must truly be worth nothing, if people could keep doing this to him. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, and stared at it, entranced. He was so pretty on the outside, so deceptively pretty. That was what attracted people. They didn't know, or care to know anything about the person who existed within that pretty exterior. He should… he should be less pretty, Malik reflected, touching the tempting golden locks that Bakura had so recently run his fingers through. At least much of his attraction was real. 

His pretty, dirty body.

The light reflecting off a pair of scissors caught his eye, and he picked them up thoughtfully. He should stop deceiving people with his looks. Maybe if he were less pretty, people would see him for who he truly was. Better if they decided he wasn't worth knowing than deceiving him into thinking they actually cared about him when they didn't. He raised the scissors toward his face, and smiled sadly at his reflection, before he began to cut.

Somehow, he would have thought it would hurt more.


	15. Haircuts and Hate

And, today it's Tramontana doing the review responses! Haven't been around for a while, nice to see you peeps.

Sorry for the shorter chapter, but this felt like a good stopping place. Hopefully the next one should be out in not too long.

Now for today's trivia! You know the 'hip hip hooray' people shout? Well, it turns out that 'hip' is the acronym for '**h**irosalima **i**st **p**erdita', meaning 'Jerusalem is lost'. Weird, huh?

**La Unity-Girl**: Bakura really is being an idiot. Don't worry, it'll work out in the end…sort of…(grin)

**Yuka Kitsune**: We're not THAT sadistic!

Chibichibimalik2: Yep, from here on it's the home stretch, pretty much. Still a few things, but the end is nearing.

**DemonicMistress Kree-kun**: Yes sir! As you commanded!

**Wolfjessica5**: Don't worry, we believe in happy endings.

**Sonny Goten**: We actually contemplated the idea you suggested a while ago, and had many bitter fights over it. You'll see what we decided soon enough….

**Amethyst Dragonflame**: YES! Finally! Ever since chapter 4 I've been waiting for someone to ask that! Nareshkite means 'nonsense' or 'foolishness' in Yiddish. You get a cookie. _And_ an update!

**Dark Magician Girl Hikaru **and **Tenshi no Toki**: Well…sorry about the hair. If it's any comfort to you, I drew him with short hair, and he was actually sorta cute. Not nearly as bad as you'd think. And don't worry, things will be getting better for him soon.

**Aramis-chan**: I refused to have Bakura do such an obviously stupid thing without making sure everybody knew that we knew that it was a really stupid thing to do. Otherwise what kind of authors would you think us!

**Nanakojima**: Thank you.

**Rapturous Voice**: Here's the update!

And thanks to all of you who are reading this, too!

Chapter Fifteen

Malik was more than his usual two minutes late. As their first period rolled by, Ryou kept glancing from Malik's empty seat to the classroom door, expecting Malik to burst in any minute, wearing his usual daredevil grin. Usually he would have walked with Malik to school, but he couldn't remember leaving the house this morning, which meant that Bakura had been the one to get him out. Consequently, he had no idea of Malik's whereabouts. When the second period bell rang and Malik still hadn't appeared, he began to wonder if something were wrong.

Ishimoto Sensei had launched into a detailed outline of the differences between urban and rural Brazilian culture when the door opened and Malik stood framed in the doorway, looking like a lawn mower had been at his hair after he'd hiked through a tornado. Ishimoto stopped mid-sentence and the general noise in the classroom turned to a deathly silence as all eyes stared at Malik. Ryou drew in a gasping breath and moved to get up, just as Kaiba behind him did the same. As one, they grabbed Malik's arms and dragged him backwards out of the classroom. Malik allowed himself to be led away from curious eyes. They dropped his backpack on the floor in front of the classroom.

"Do you have a good pair of scissors?" Ryou asked Kaiba on the way to the nearest bathroom.

"No."

"Drat. I don't either." Ryou frowned for a minute, then brightened and pulled Malik's knife out of the blonde's shoe. "Here, we'll use this."

They dragged Malik inside the bathroom and sat him on a toilet seat while they looked him over to assess the damage. "I'll do it," Kaiba said, holding his hand out for the knife. "I've got more experience."

"You do?"

Kaiba looked embarrassed. "I refused to let anybody wielding sharp implements near my brother's head."

Ryou looked impressed. "You really love Mokuba," he stated. Kaiba shrugged, as if to say, isn't it obvious? Malik was meanwhile occupying himself by counting the ants walking across the bathroom floor. One waved at him. He raised an eyebrow arrogantly back.

Kaiba took the knife and began sawing away at the uneven clumps at the back of Malik's head.

"What _happened_?" Ryou finally asked. He raised Malik's head from its defeated position contemplating the floor. "Was it Bakura?"

Malik flinched. "No."

Kaiba rolled his eyes. "Denial doesn't get you anywhere. At least, not in these parts it doesn't."

Malik looked at him. "Huh?"

"Glad to see you're so talkative."

"Kaiba, you're being weird," Ryou said tentatively.

Kaiba opened and closed his mouth. Ryou shook his head at him. "It's my prerogative," the CEO finally said huffily.

The corners of Malik's mouth twitched upwards.

"You know, if you wanted Kaiba to give you a haircut this badly you could've just _asked_," Ryou suggested.

"Mrrrmble," said Malik.

"Come again?" Kaiba asked.

"Nothing."

Kaiba crossed his arms on his chest. "It was Bakura, wasn't it."

"Not… not really." Malik swallowed, then sat up straighter. "I got sick of how people looked at my hair."

Ryou and Kaiba exchanged glances. "You mean…."

"No, guys, just drop it, okay? I got sick of it and that's it. Just leave me alone about it."

Ryou shoved Kaiba out of the way and crouched in front of Malik. "We need to do _something_ about this mangled bit in the front. You look like a bush."

Kaiba frowned. "Should I cut it all off? The back is already really short."

"But Malik wouldn't look good in a buzz cut."

Kaiba sighed. "_Anything's_ better than this!"

"I don't want my hair to look nice," inserted Malik. "Cut it all off."

"No!" Ryou spread his hands across the front of Malik's head, shielding the offending locks from view. "Don't touch him! He's my boyfriend, there's no way I'm gonna let you mangle him!"

Kaiba raised his hands in feigned innocence. "Don't worry; I wasn't going to touch his nose _or_ his eyebrows."

Ryou stuck out his tongue.

Kaiba ran his fingers through the mess on Malik's forehead. "If we have to… I can cut a little here, push this to the side…" He chopped a little with the knife and stepped back. "Done!"

Malik brushed the hair from his shoulders and stood up to face the mirrors, only to discover that there _were_ no mirrors in the boys' bathroom. "Uh… I'd like to see what you've done to me."

The three looked at each other for a moment, before Ryou tentatively said, "There are mirrors in the girls' bathroom, aren't there?"

"We're _guys_," said Kaiba patiently.

"We're _gay_," said Ryou patiently.

"Speak for yourselves," Kaiba muttered. "_You _can go in. I'll wait outside."

Ryou and Malik exchanged an evil glance, then jumped up, grabbed Kaiba, and promptly dragged him into the girls' bathroom. Kaiba's reputation was stomped into the ground as about seven giggling mini-skirted girls saw them sneaking in and out. He almost cried.

Malik paused in front of the mirror, leaning his elbows on the counter to get a better look at himself. He made a face. "It's really short in the back. You should have cut more off at the top." The hair at the back of his head had been cut down almost to his scalp, while an unruly mop was left on top his head, for the most part spiking upwards, but dropping a few strands on his forehead.

"I think it looks really good," Ryou said. He flicked the golden choker on the back of Malik's neck. "Now all you need to do is get rid of these obnoxious things. They're in the way."

"I can't! They're family heirlooms, and besides, they don't come off."

"What did they do, weld them on?" Kaiba scoffed.

"Uh…actually, yes."

The bathroom door behind them opened. A pigtailed girl with big pink bows entered the bathroom, caught sight of three of the school's biggest bishies, and squealed loudly, sounding the Bishie Alert to summon the rest of the school's female population. Kaiba, Ryou and Malik spent the next period trying to fight their way through a screaming crowd of rabid girls and avoid being groped at the same time.

Lunch that day was more interesting than usual. Well, interesting if you like being gawped at like zoo animals. Malik was unable to avoid the interested stares sent his way. Most of the school buzzed with news of the change in Malik's appearance, and rumors about the state he'd appeared in this morning and why flew like vultures about a corpse. There was already a poll running about whether his new look was better than his old one (results were still inconclusive, with 45 favoring the old, 40 favoring the new, and the rest undecided). Malik sat with Kaiba (hoping Kaiba's evil glare would help fend off curious people) in a quiet corner, trying to eat his lunch without being disturbed, but he was only halfway done with the gloop that passed for meatballs and the worms that passed for spaghetti when the Yugi gang surrounded his table ominously.

"Malik, you look so cute!" Anzu exclaimed enthusiastically.

"So I gathered…" Malik muttered, already rather annoyed about the whole business.

"We were just wondering if the rumor about the Russian black-belt and the ice cream was true," Joey said conspiratorially.

"The _what_?" Malik stared. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Joey looked rather disappointed. "How about the one about the rubber ducky on the highway?"

"No…"

"The Brazilian prostitute?"

"No! I was just trying to give myself a haircut, and discovered I was bad at it, that's all!"

Kaiba smirked and muttered something about gullible mongrels. Joey, predictably, exploded at him, and the rest of Malik's lunch went flying towards the ceiling. At least the sheer amount of noise managed to keep the crowds at bay fairly well.

* * *

Malik returned, grubby and splattered with grease, from his after-school job at the motorcycle garage. Even though he lived with Ryou now and didn't need to pay electricity or water bills anymore, he still felt like he should contribute to the household costs. Ryou was in his room doing homework. Malik said a quick hello, then went to pull out his laptop. He was finally ready to contact Rishid, at least to let the man who had been an older brother to him for years know that he was alright.

Malik opened his Gmail account (we're getting paid five quid to promote it! Gmail rocks! End commercial break.) and stared at it for several minutes, before he started writing.

_Dear Rishid,_

_Hi. I'm in Domino City. I'm staying with Ryou. Everything's fine_.

For some reason, Malik felt that it was rather dry. Not to mention that the last line wasn't really true.

_Ok, fine, I'm not ok. I got dumped. Well, more like used actually. Don't laugh at me please._

Malik sighed, and decided it needed more elaboration; this just didn't quite cut it.

_I thought there was something more between us, that maybe he even cared for me. But he just wanted me because of the way I look. So I got a little crazy and chopped off most of my hair. I swear I didn't do anything worse than that, but now I'm getting even more attention and I don't know what to do about it. I don't think I like myself very much right now. After he told me that he just wanted me for the way I look, I felt really dirty. I'm trying to be different from what I was, but it's not working so well._

_Oh, and the yakuza is after me again. I thought they might've forgotten me…fine, so I was being dumb. You don't have to _say _that. _

_Are you really mad at me for changing my email address without telling you? I still check my old one and I saw the stuff you sent me. Nearly killed my inbox, I don't have that much storage space there! But I really do appreciate it. I realize that running away from you and Isis was rather stupid. And juvenile (well, I'm a teenager. I'm allowed to indulge in teenage angst) but I just couldn't manage with all that crap in Egypt. So I came here, but I didn't do any better. Well, maybe a little. My grades are better. And Ryou lets me have chocolate whenever I want. But now I messed up again. Am I doing something wrong? Why don't people like **me**? _

_-Malik_

_P.S. Do you know anything about a python that can appear anywhere at will? One has been bugging me. We call it Binky. He blinks, too. Snakes aren't supposed to do that._

Malik pressed the 'send' button without giving himself a chance to lose his nerve.


	16. Read! at your own risk

Dear readers,

I would like to apologize sincerely. As of now, it doesn't seem that this story is going to be updated in the near future at all, for several reasons.

This story was a joint project of SeventhDaughter and Tramontana Keeper. However, because of all sorts of real-life issues, the two of us don't see each other nearly as much, and SeventhDaughter has no time to devote to writing fanfiction.

To those of you who have read any of my other stories, you may have noticed that my other YGO massive WIP got updated recently. I do not like leaving stories hanging, and I reread that one and decided that I had invested too much effort into it to give up, and would give it another shot. Recently I have been rereading Misconception, in an attempt to work up the motivation to continue.

I'm not sure it's going to work.

I think that my 'writing voice' has changed a lot since the last time I updated this story, and many things about the writing bother me a lot. This is purely a personal issue. I now express ideas differently, and many things about this story I find myself cringing at, which makes me rather sad. Obviously I did something 'right' with this story, as so many people have seemed to enjoy it immensely, and I very much enjoyed writing it. The problem is, I'm not sure that I'm capable of continuing where I left off, and even if I were to continue, the 'voice' would probably sound so different as to be unrecognizable.

So as of now, it appears that this fic won't be updated in the near future. I'm really sorry about that – I know it's a sort of cruddy thing to do. Maybe someday I'll find myself finishing it up.

For now, so long, and thanks for all the fish!

Tramontana Keeper


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